In the Line of Fire
by hippiechick2112
Summary: A disguised delivery man had been murdering military personnel without discrimination, taking souvenirs from the kills. On the case is NCIS with the help of agent afloat Lydia Sullivan Bolton, who follow the clues to the serial killer's true hatred. Second story of the series "Everybody's Got a Dark Side".
1. The Latest Links

**In the Line of Fire**

 **Note and Disclaimer : Obviously, I don't own the characters and plotlines of _NCIS_ , but do own the characters I have created in this story (like Lydia Bolton, nee Sullivan, the narrator of this story, and her family and friends and whoever else who is not on the show), so don't use without permission please! Like the story before this, I've got a basic plotline, so be patient. You know that I'll get it done sometime, as always.**

* * *

 **June 2012**

I crouched down in the tall grass behind the crummy motel called the Riverside Motor Court at the Caribou/Limestone, Maine town lines, waiting for my cue to move and my orders to be completed. My gun was posed towards the small bathroom window of Room 19, ready for some action to start, but the discomforts of being the agent on the road were killing me already, despite the importance of this mission and how we needed this guy dead. The early summertime flies bothered me, lacing themselves in my hair as they bit and buried inside my skin, but I had to ignore them this time. The unbearable sun even poisoned my skin and made it itchy again, but I had to ignore that too. It was time to take down a killer and get some justice for all those Marine, Navy and Air Force men and women dead because of this one man.

My hit was a known mass murderer on the run, nicknamed "Mr. Special Delivery", since that's what he supposedly said to all his victims before they open their doors and become bloody bodies and had missing hands (sometimes one, sometimes both, depending on which branch the personnel was from). Scared witnesses have told me many times over about how his face was covered (clothing telling them that he was a Fed Ex delivery guy or sometimes UPS) and there was no clear description of the man who we've been searching for. All we've gotten was that he was a tall and average weighted man, probably in his early thirties, with a deep voice and no known accent.

It annoyed me immensely for many months that NCIS (with jurisdiction on this case over everyone else thankfully) had not been able to find this killer and had no clear clues to his whereabouts, only a long line of dead bodies and weeping families. The killer even moved quickly before we could get to him, from New Orleans to DC to up north here to Maine, and hasn't been seen since January of this year until now. He was last seen by witnesses down in Lowell, Massachusetts last winter, striking in his usual fashion, until I got a call from Director Vance three days ago, when I was vacationing up here in Maine. He told me to move quickly and to get a babysitter, since Mr. Special Delivery was ten minutes from my summer home here in Connor Township, and that he would compensate for the lost vacation time.

Well, it's not exactly my summer home just yet, to be honest. The deed was to be signed at the end of this summer, so my aunt Mary didn't have to pay anything except rent to me, for the upkeep of the house and property. She had been dead broke since her divorce from some years ago and Social Security wasn't cutting it for a home in Connor Township with over one hundred and sixty-five acres of land and hundreds of dollars worth of taxes each year. And that didn't include the electricity, heating and maintenance and keeping hunters and trespassers off of the land.

Rural northern Maine, with its infinite beauty and bittersweet memories, was giving me a headache already and it wasn't just the dealings with my aunt and a screaming nine month old with an attitude problem (red hair and with a temper bigger than mine and Keith's too, to boot). Nervous that a killer was so close to my home and particularly near to my family (especially my son) on my vacation time, I had to move quicker than chasing around a baby helping himself to stand against the coffee table and entertainment stand. Grabbing some gear and camping out for three days already (the managers of the motel aware of my daily stalking), I was anxious that this guy would be coming back to his motel room by the trailer parks and I can get this assignment done and over with. That killer anywhere away from my son, as well as these suffering families, was safer. Being within my sights was better. Being dead was the best, in Vance's (as well as my) book.

 _Dammit, Lydia, there you go again. You're all worried for nothing. Take it easy! Alex is safe with your aunt and the doors are locked and the guns are within reach of the adults who can use them. And you wonder, where is Keith in all of this when we need him? Back at the Pentagon after Afghanistan, of course, being the desk jockey that the Air Force wanted him to be. Hell, going back in made him realize that he was needed and that the needed him too, but spending time in OTS and then off to Korea, Germany and then home wasn't the greatest marriage plan in the world. Even with our ups and downs, it wasn't happy._

I crawled down the hill a little as I moved away from the swarm of flies and my personal problems. My eyes started to water when staring so intently on that bathroom window. I didn't see much in the way of movement there in the time I was spying, not even at night. I mean, Mr. Special Delivery had not returned to his room and the management said that it was still being rented by him. I then blinked my tired eyes a few times more, just to see if there was something was there that I was missing, and saw movement. I moved my gun towards the small bathroom window, but thought twice about it. The head and movement was familiar. I couldn't take the shot.

Daunted by the task and how huge it seemed now that the target was not in sight anymore, I got up, shaking. I brushed everything off of me, from insects to grass, and put my gun in its holder. Carefully, I walked around the motel, keeping my hand close to my gun, and managed to pull some gloves on before standing before the ajar door of Room 19. Pushing the door open with my fingers lightly, I pulled my gun out again and put it away again, relieved. Before me stood Tony and Gibbs, working on the room as if it were a crime scene.

"Oh, thank God," I muttered, watching as Gibbs disappeared into the bathroom and Tony stood before me, mocking as usual.

"I was wondering when you would show up," Tony replied, picking up a briefcase with his gloved hands and trying to find a way to open it. "Vance said you'd be around this neck of the woods. Being an agent afloat must be fun, with no rules and no team."

"Just because I am all of the above, doesn't mean I'd like running into you and almost making you sniper meat," I retorted, glancing around in an attempt to appear busy.

"Aren't you in vacation anyway?" Tony had put the briefcase down as soon as he opened it and found it empty.

I lifted up my arms, covered in insect bites and a nasty sunburn, and glared at Tony in what I hoped was threatening. "Does this look like a vacation anyway?"

"Sometimes, being on the job constitutes as fun."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…how many assholes on this ship anyhow?"

"Well, we've gone from suck to –"

"DiNozzo! Bolton!" Gibbs yelled as he popped his head out of the bathroom, making us both jump. "What are you doing there?"

"Nothing except processing," Tony and I quickly replied back simultaneously, which made Gibbs head back to his work. Tony then looked at me and I snickered.

"Still childish, I see," I observed, taking the end of the room with the TV and desk.

"Still wickedly funny, I see," Tony tossed back, taking the other end, by the nightstand.

Ignoring Tony for the moment, I checked the TV and around the desk and refrigerator, seeing nothing except sour milk in the refrigerator and dust everywhere. I then went for the bed, seeing that it was slept on, but again saw nothing of interest. There were no clothes under the bed, no articles of pastimes… _nothing_ that told me that someone had been living here. I knew that Vance wasn't lying to me, since the lead came from the motel owners, and this wasn't a waste of time. However, it was as if Mr. Special Delivery had been here and had erased any trace of himself, moving on for the next kill.

Tony and I met each other in the middle before taking any furniture apart, each of us eying the other for anything we found from the first search. I shrugged my shoulders, noting that I had nothing, and waited for Gibbs to come out. It only took a few minutes though. He came out with a small bag with a single hair in there, but it was small and Tony and I had to squint in order to see it. Gibbs tossed the bag at Tony and glared at him as if daring Tony to tell him something positive.

"Nothing in the initial look around, Boss," Tony admitted. "This guy is pretty thorough."

"Same here," I added quickly, knowing how Gibbs worked. "Other than milk that hasn't seen usage, this guy left us nothing. We'll get to checking the furniture in a second here."

"Making sure we don't follow him, I'd say," Tony said, nodding with my assessment. "With so much woods here, he might have be anywhere."

"Well, it's a big farming community too," I reminded Tony. "If we had a description, we can send it out to the general populace and make them aware. There's open space here too."

"And what would that accomplish other than another dead body and a scared bunch of people?"

"More than you'd think."

"I think you spent too much time out of this country and being alone as an agent, Lyddy."

Gibbs listened to our second argument without much comment before putting his own two cents in. "I think keeping this from the general public would be a better idea…for now. Once Abby gets up here, it would give us an idea of who he is."

"And match it up to any other crime scene." I was quiet for a minute. "Where are you guys staying anyway? The police department?"

"We just got here," Tony confirmed, looking to Gibbs for some guidance. "I don't know. Boss?"

"Well, you all can stay with us," I offered, before Gibbs could say anything. "Plenty of room in the house and plenty of space outside if it's too crowded. I'm also pretty sure we have an empty room downstairs for Abby. Besides, the police department isn't too friendly here."

Gibbs nodded, exiting the room and heading outside. Tony and I watched him take out a cell phone and talk to a few people, dropping one call after another. This gave us the chance to talk quickly without getting yelled at. We did mask our activity by checking the room and bathroom one last time, this time to take apart some furniture and check the walls. Tony did pack the bag of hair in the container near the door for evidence, first kneeling before the bed and helping me pick up the mattress, checking carefully with me.

"So, how are things bouncing around like you do?" Tony asked when he knew Gibbs was too busy.

"Insane," I answered automatically.

"You can't be doing the same things over and over again, expecting a different result, are you?"

"Some days, yes. It's been so difficult. It's hard to hide a marriage and baby from everyone, especially criminals we bust."

"I can see that. Now, how's the good old marriage after the accusation?"

I cringed outwardly. I didn't want to remember being accused of adultery with Tony when I was pregnant with Alex. It was a nasty joke played on Keith by someone on his base and it almost cost us our marriage. He moved out of the house, claimed that the baby was not his and even tried confronting me in the bullpen, before Vance gave me enough paperwork to fill out for months. Luckily, with some help from Ducky and Gibbs (and a security guard downstairs that calmed Keith down), things went back to normal for a short period of time. Then, just before Alex was born (and I mean, this was a three week time frame), my father died, my brother Jay went into the hospital with an unknown illness (and still is being tested) and Keith was assigned overseas again, for a three month stint in Afghanistan again.

Yeah, it was a tough time and it still is. I have seen Keith on and off for brief moments since Alex was born, Jay is doing no better and my father is buried next to my mother in relative peace. However, I could not afford to look back. I am a Marine daughter, an Air Force wife and an NCIS agent. I could make it, no matter the situation and cost.

"Refer back to my last comment," I finally said after some pause. Finding nothing underneath the mattress, Tony and I lifted the box spring and still saw nothing.

"Move the bed?" Tony suggested.

"Sure." I went to the head of the bed and Tony took the foot. Together, we pushed the bed aside, seeing nothing.

"Check the walls," Tony ordered, seeing the same thing I was. Immediately, I complied, my gloved fingers running against a loose panel in the wall, one that I couldn't get to come apart.

Kneeling before the wall, I motioned Tony closer so that he could help me. He kneed before me and together we tried moving the panel in the wall. It took a few minutes (and Gibbs watching us from behind after he was finished with his calls), but Tony and I managed to get it open. What we saw inside was a total surprise though, a new link in the case and something totally different for Mr. Special Delivery.

It was a human hand.


	2. Almost No Evidence

The hand Tony and I found had been bagged and tagged, ready for examination when Palmer were cleared to come up here and we contacted the Caribou Police Department to share equipment. Exiting the room with Tony, we watched in the shade as another car pulled in front of the room (Gibbs parking his around the building). Scratching my arms from the burns and bites, I watched as Ziva parked and came out of the driver side and McGee stumbled out of the passenger side. The former was cool as could be, smiling as she saw us. The latter, however, looked very carsick and scared to be in the same car as Ziva. I couldn't really blame McGee though. Considering the average speed limit here was fifty miles an hour (and most go sixty) and the highway speed from Bangor on was seventy-five miles an hour, Ziva must have had a field day.

"Hey, McSicko, seems like you caught a case of the scare from hell," Tony announced, of course latching onto McGee's weaknesses. Even after the bombing from the month before, we were all still shaky. This mass murderer was just an icing on the cake of all the terrorists having to be dealt with.

"If you had to deal with Ziva driving over a hundred miles an hour on the highway, almost hitting a moose and braking before crashing into a bridge guardrail avoiding the animal, you'd be this scared too." McGee took control of his trembling legs and stood up straighter. "I can't believe you guys got up here before we did."

"Gibbs was desperate to be here," Tony explained, as if it said it all. "I think he was actually driving faster than Ziva."

"I wasn't racing," Ziva remarked coolly. "I was enjoying the wonderful scenery."

"In a blur, you mean," McGee said.

Gibbs soon arrived as if out of nowhere, which scared the three agents into doing something that related to the case. McGee and Tony muttered something about checking the remaining walls in the room and Ziva said something about questioning the manager of the motel. I volunteered to go with her, since I knew her and had talked to her recently and she knew me. Soon, I was walking fast with Ziva towards the office just down the way. On the way, we passed the motel's inhabitants (some temporary and the others permanent) and ignored any questions they asked us, all of them desperate for gossip. They apparently have been hearing the commotion and have been listening to the rumors on top of everything.

"We will release any information when it is available," Ziva finally said to everyone as we reached the office door. She knocked and went inside without an answer.

I followed Ziva, closing the door behind us. The manager did not appear to be at the front desk, so Ziva quickly reached for the bell on the counter. It rang, which quickly brought the manager to us from a back room. Anna Pelletier, the co-owner of the Riverside Motel, had been courteous enough to me when it was requested by a federal agency that I camp out for three days straight and kill a murderer. Now that he slipped through our fingers, we had more to ask of her and she wasn't going to like it. Her patience was going to be tried, I knew as soon as I saw her face. She didn't appreciate us bothering her.

"I told you, I have no more rooms for you to sleep in," Anna immediately said. "Camp out!"

"I understand that," I replied. "However, we have some questions to ask you."

Anna pointed to Ziva. "And her?"

"She's with me," I reassured her. "Ms. Pelletier, may I introduce Special Agent Ziva David?"

"An Israeli?" she asked, her face full of disgust her Ziva.

"Regardless of where she came from, she's still here to assist in this investigation," I said, almost tempted to snap at the ignorance of this woman. "Now, you said the suspect came in, covered head to toe in clothing and he was wearing sunglasses. He asked for a room and locked himself inside."

"Yes," Anna confirmed. "His voice was deep. I don't even know where he came from, the voice was so… _generalized_."

"Like a computer generated voice?" Ziva asked.

Anna stared at Ziva in what I would describe as sickening. "Yes. I guess you can say that."

"Has anyone visited?" I then inquired, directing the attention back to me. "Has any other resident seen this person with anyone else?"

"No."

"Has he come by here since?"

"Just to pick up some mail. That was twice though."

"Has he forwarded his address here?"

"I would assume so." Anna sounded annoyed with me now. "No businesses on the envelopes though. Just plain writing on the front, no return address. Stamped in Eastern Maine."

"Any name for the person receiving it?" Ziva took out a notepad and a pen and jotted down a few things.

"None," Anna confirmed. "Just stated it was for 'Resident in Room 19' and nothing more."

"Were any bags he brought with him? Anything else unusual?" I thought back to the briefcase Tony found empty.

"A thin carry case, nothing more." Anna crossed her arms across her chest, corroborating with what we found already. "Do you have any other questions?"

"Considering this is a federal investigation, we have many." I stole a glance with Ziva, who put her notes away. "What do you think, Ziva?"

"I think I have a few." Ziva paused. "So, you're trying to tell us that this man comes in, covered and with a computer generated voice, and has no visitors and no traceable mail?"

"I just told your friend that." Anna was getting anxious for this conversation to end.

"Nobody has seen him come and go?"

"I think my husband saw him leave once or twice, but he came back within twenty minutes. He went next door to Dodo's Marketplace a few times, I think, brought back a pizza and locked himself back in his room. I think once he bought a pack of cigarettes."

"How do you figure?"

"Cleaning lady did his room while he was gone once, when I smelled something rotten in there. She didn't find anything, but she did say that he probably was smoking. There was a used ashtray in there and a half pack of Camel Crush."

"When was this?"

"Last week, I believe. Since then, he's been sent a warning through my husband. He knew that the man was in there and that we didn't want him smoking. He had to yell the message through the door."

"Did he give a name on his paperwork? Paid in any method other than cash?"

"John Doe, who paid in cash. Here, we don't require ID unless you look under eighteen and I don't care who the hell comes in here, just as long as everything is paid in full. He had no pets and didn't require a kitchen."

"I think that's everything." Ziva looked to me. "You have anything else?"

"Not that I can think of." I smiled at Anna. "Thank you, Ms. Pelletier."

Ziva and I soon left the office together without a farewell, the manager's grateful glance behind us. We again ignored the residents' questions and went back to the car, where Tony and McGee stood. Gibbs again was not there, but we sensed his presence nearby nonetheless. Tony and McGee didn't seem to have much more than we had though. Other than the hand and the hair found, the room had been torn apart piece by piece and put back together again. Other than ripping the carpets up, we had gone through everything.

"Find anything?" Ziva asked, almost in a joking manner.

"Ha, ha," Tony replied. "Very funny, Ziva."

"To answer your query, the answer would be _no_ ," McGee added.

"Find a pack of Camels in there?" I fidgeted, checking around the corner quickly for Gibbs and not seeing him.

"No." Tony squirmed, doing the same thing I was. "Didn't see any habits Mr. Special Delivery had. Why?"

"Oh, the manager said they knew he smoked," Ziva said casually.

"Other than a random human hand that we have to give in with the local police department, we didn't spot anything." Tony sounded pretty irritated. "This guy is pretty good at covering his tracks."

"We established that already." Even I was getting exasperated.

"So, what's next?" McGee inquired. "We don't have much we can work on, Abby isn't flown in yet and Ducky can't work. Palmer is…well, Palmer."

"I told Gibbs you all can stay with my family," I offered again. "We've got plenty of room."

"We're not going to hear you gush about the baby, we are?" Tony wrinkled his nose.

"No." I punched him in the shoulder. "I don't _gush_ about Alex either."

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs yelled from around the corner.

I swear, Tony jumped a few feet in the air in fright, even after so many years of working with Gibbs. He swiveled his head to Gibbs' direction, running towards him and talking rapidly about their finds. He didn't say what Ziva and I found out from Anna though, choosing instead to focus on the room they just took apart and emphasizing that nothing had been found except for what they had. McGee, Ziva and I hurdled closer together, hoping that Gibbs wouldn't notice us, and tried piecing everything together with what we had.

"No trace, no name and no _nothing_ ," I started. "Makes me think Mr. Special Delivery is part of a bunker."

"We would have found more people by now," Ziva argued.

"Not necessarily," McGee countered. "They could be using this one person we've been tracing and have others who are not so obvious."

"But why personnel of some branches of the service?" I was confused. "It's not a specific one. This guy runs through the Air Force, Navy and the Marines. Where is the link? Why random people, with no known six degrees to each other? Are they trying to get at something or more than just one? Is it just a thrill or some sort of sick joke?"

"With not much we can go on, we can't answer those problems." McGee looked up from our circle to check on Tony, still sucked into a conversation with Gibbs.

"How is it?" Ziva motioned her head towards Tony.

"I'm not sure," McGee admitted freely. "It's a cross between being chewed out and being interrogated."

"With Gibbs, I cannot tell," Ziva pointed out. "How can you?"

"Well, the way his face moves," McGee started explaining. "It's a cross between –"

"McGee! Here, _now_!"

Gibbs was soon done with Tony. McGee broke from me and Ziva and jogged over, listening to the same things Tony just got done hearing. Before long, without much of anything from McGee, Gibbs barked that Ziva and I join the group. I had no fear of Gibbs and his demands, to be honest, and can easily work with him. While the head slapping and feeling like a ninja was watching me wasn't my thing, I liked how he worked and always used his rules when I could. I've seen worse in the agency, watched my team heads get wounded or killed, and moved on from the lesson. _Gibbs_? Hell, I lived with him for about a year before I moved to an apartment on my own and then Keith and I bought the home we still have. If working on boats, drinking most of the night and exercising at five AM was easy, this was just a walk in the park.

"We didn't get much out of the manager," Ziva immediately said, before Gibbs said anything. "She received no name, had cash as a payment and cleaned out the room once."

"When?" Gibbs was anxious, seeing this as perhaps a hindrance to the investigation.

"Last week," I reassured him. "It shouldn't throw us back much though. However, any trace of him that was mentioned was thrown out, either by the cleaning lady or Mr. Special Delivery himself."

"Routines?"

"Going next door to the gas station slash convenience store," I reported. "We can check them out and see if they have anything."

"Good." Gibbs nodded. "Ziva, you go back to the manager and get any security tapes. Dinozzo –"

"We'll go next door and talk to the owners of the store," Tony finished. "We'll get any footage if they have it too. Come on, McGoo."

Relieved, McGee followed Tony, walking the short distance past the trailer park to the store. Ziva would have protested going back into that office to see Anna, but with the way Gibbs was, she didn't instigate any arguments. She huffed, turning around and pushing her way through the residents once more, saying the same thing over and over again about the information. Once alone and with only the inhabitants of the other rooms milling around us, Gibbs turned to me. Quickly, his face changed, softening when it normally wouldn't.

"How did you get here?" Gibbs asked me.

"Walked." I shrugged my shoulders, which hurt them. "No time to get a vehicle. There was one and I needed it there so there was an escape route. I needed Alex safe."

"As far as you know, he is?"

"Yeah." I paused. "You think they'll be ok with their own devices?"

Gibbs nodded, motioning me forward to his car. "Let's go."


	3. Home Sweet Home

Finally, I was back home for the time being. I got out of the passenger side of the car, stretching as I walked towards the porch and tripped over a few toys, things that Aunt Mary insisted on getting Alex, and a few out of place lawn chairs. The house seemed deserted, but I knew that Aunt Mary was upstairs with the baby, possibly passed out and for some hours now. Not blaming her in the slightest (I was pretty tired myself), I took a key out of my pocket and unlocked the door, Gibbs soon behind me with his things. We entered into the kitchen. Out of habit, I scanned the area, seeing and hearing nothing. Smiling, I went upstairs and into the first bedroom on the right, Alex's room.

Of course, Aunt Mary was sleeping…on the floor near the crib without pillow or blanket. Alex was awake and sitting up, gurgling and grinning when he saw me, putting his arms up to be held. Although I felt too dirty, achy and sweaty to play Mommy, I picked him up anyway, cooing over him and holding him against my shoulder for a little comfort. While Alex curled right in there perfectly and felt the world was right again, I relaxed. Content myself, I was about to go to the kitchen with him when I met Gibbs on top of the stairs. Softening even more, Gibbs took Alex from my arms, stroking his baby fine red hair and cooing himself.

It wasn't something we shared often because we hadn't been in each other's company for some time and saw each other on and off. In his own way, Gibbs does care, I saw over the course of time, and he was even excited seeing Alex, taking him downstairs to the living room. I was about to follow them when I heard Aunt Mary wake up behind me. She called out to me and I obeyed, walking over to her and helping her up, even though that was not asked of me. She smiled at me too, patting me on my sore shoulders.

"Home already?" she asked, brushing some dirt off of my arms and getting the carpet dirty.

"It's only been three days." I sighed, my mind now on vacuuming. "Nothing came out of it, but it was worth a shot."

Aunt Mary winced. She never liked guns and only agreed to use one in cause the murderer was out because it involved her safety as well as Alex's.

"Where's Alex?" Aunt Mary then inquired, seeing the crib empty.

"Gibbs has him."

"You mean, the man who took you in after you left your father's? Gave you away at your wedding? Went to your father's funeral with that other man?"

"The same. And that other man was Ducky, thank you."

Aunt Mary sighed. "You trust him a lot, don't you?"

"I do, with my life and Alex's. He's always had my back when I needed it. Why don't you?"

"I don't know. There's some dark secret around him and I know it."

I laughed. I wasn't going to be telling my aunt what Gibbs' dirty little secret was, one I learned without him telling me. Many years ago, when he was overseas for Desert Storm, Gibbs' first wife and only daughter witnessed the murder of a Marine by a drug lord. Although protected, the car that a NIS agent was driving crashed, the driver shot dead. The both had also died in the accident. However, Gibbs soon learned the name of the suspect from Mike Franks (on purpose, I believe) and went in search of justice, even going into Mexico and playing it out like a sniper.

It was a well-kept secret too, one that the former director, Jenny Shepard, told me. It made me respect Gibbs more and be reassured that he would do anything for the people he loved. However, that was none of my aunt's business either way.

"Really?" I asked when I stopped laughing and saw my aunt's serious face. "Some secret? Can't a person have their own life and make mistakes?"

"Of course," my aunt conceded, "but he seems to have the same aura as your mother. Troubled and very dark and hiding a lot of things."

"Everybody does, even you and me," I argued, sighing again. "Listen, we're not reaching an impasse with this. If you're that worried, why don't you go downstairs and compete for the baby's attention?"

"I will." Aunt Mary's resolve strengthened. "I think I will."

"Go get 'em," I remarked under my breath as Aunt Mary left, already imagining the gaze Gibbs was going to give her. Annoyed, I should think, but also incredulous.

I sighed for the third time in the space of an hour. Feeling the exhaustion with the days without sleep, I shook my head, not realizing that I was giving the carpet a shower of leaves. I walked on to the bathroom just outside the bedroom, leaning against the sink and staring at myself in the mirror as the debris flew everywhere. My red hair seemed bleached a lighter red and had a few white strands in them and my face seemed a darker pink than it normally was. My face had more freckles across them than I remembered. The bags under my eyes were deeper and darker too, but that was also from months of worrying and insomnia, between Alex's initial feeding schedule and Keith's missions and days at the Pentagon doing who-knows-what. I was twenty-nine years old already and felt like I went through a million, considering the last six years.

 _Or even the last year._

I turned the cold water on, already hearing Aunt Mary demanding the world from Gibbs. As I splashed my face, my mind went backwards, something I never liked doing. From the time I left my father's house about six years ago, life had been a long roller coaster. I've been with NCIS for almost five years now and have been afloat for quite a while, for my whole career actually. I was first assigned in Germany to work with some senior agent that got himself killed when we were trying to crack down on the drug cartel that some Marines were continuing from another group. That particular mission, after seven months of running it alone (and a probationary agent, to boot), resulted in me being captured by them and being shot in the kneecap (and let me tell you, the replacement is no better than the lost one) and then a daring escape. I gathered some reinforcements and we busted that line of business before long.

Afterward, it was a mix of cases, countries and people until this past year, when I was on paperwork duty and then chasing killers like Mr. Special Delivery. Director Shepard, before she was killed, had me running on ships, across the country and to naval bases around the world, just before I was married. Vance was no better, denying my request to become part of any team. He bounced me back and forth to the same places too, watching like me a hawk for some reason. I knew that he did not like me really. Honestly, it took me some getting used to with him before his voice did not grate on my nerves. I also found that he could be sneaky and underhanded sometimes, but he also had integrity and patience and I thought it counted for something.

I cooled down immediately. Contemplating a shower later, I toweled down and decided that a walk around the place wasn't a bad idea. I hadn't been here for some years and had hardly snooped around when I was called to the motel. I started in the back bedroom, where I was situated, and went from there. The hallway was short and wide, but held enough room for at least twenty people, which it held at one point many, many years ago. My mother grew up here and had given it all up to be with my father over thirty years ago, after Kent State had broken her into a million pieces.

The walls held many pictures of the family, from my end to the stairwell. From the back, there were old black and white pictures, dating back to the early twentieth century, if I remembered correctly. Then, it moved through the generations. I recognized my grandparents and then my mother and Aunt Mary. If my eyes wondered a little more, I would see myself and my siblings and parents. One was Mara and Jay swinging me between them and the other was me and Mom, almost like identical twins, we were that close in resemblance.

Painful memories…they were nothing more than that, ghosts that I waved away as I stared at a recent photo of me, Jay and Alex. Hell, I kept track of Jay often enough when we could, but he was always busy as a Marine and now, sick. He and I, as a general rule, did not talk about the other family members often, but they were in our minds often. Three immediate relations of ours were dead (Mom by suicide, Dad by a heart attack and Mara by murder) and I now had the most wonderful baby and greatest older brother anyone could ever have left to me. That was what we could look forward to in the future instead of the ghosts.

Having enough of the past, I walked downstairs, still hearing the complaints from Aunt Mary. I stood in the kitchen, arms folded across my chest, waiting for an opportunity to cut in. Gibbs didn't need to say anything. He just sat there with Alex in the rocking chair, the both of them perfectly content in every way. He listened to Aunt Mary rant and rave about family and how he was butting in until she saw me there in the next room. Then, a smile was painted on her face and she waved me over. I walked over to the living room, all right, and stood between her and Gibbs, arms still crossed.

"You know –" Aunt Mary started.

"That you shouldn't be trying to upset Alex," I finished. "Now, Gibbs and his team are going to be staying here for some time until we close this case."

"I thought you were working on this alone," Aunt Mary protested.

"Oftentimes, things like this become too big for one person," I countered. "And no, I was not assigned this case to myself. I was told to try and get him. Backup just came when ordered."

Aunt Mary's lips quivered, something akin to a pout. Crossing her arms herself (stubborn as could be, like my mother), she left the living room and went into the kitchen, hiding her temper tantrum by doing the dishes and banging them around. Gibbs still said nothing, paying more attention to Alex than I really thought he would. Soon though, the baby calmed down enough to fall asleep, possibly for the first time since the night before. I was relieved, to be honest, and was amused to see even Gibbs comfortable enough to go to sleep. He was close.

"What's the game plan?" I asked quietly, hoping not to attract too much attention.

"Gather as much as we can and wait," Gibbs replied in the same tone.

"Palmer gonna be up here soon?"

"I'm hoping within the week."

I was not surprised by the timing. I was trying to give Palmer a chance, since I've heard so much about him (mostly annoying) and was used to Ducky. At least Ducky let me sleep in Autopsy when I was too tired and needed some shuteye and always made sure nobody knew. Palmer threw me out the one time I tried with him. Apparently, Vance was catching too many people (like Gibbs) taking naps in there and not doing the work he wanted done and Palmer liked to follow the rules.

But that's beside the point. I honestly found Palmer filling in for some big shoes and I think he wouldn't be able to handle the trip up and deal with Gibbs or the police department. He was going to need some help.

"You think Palmer would need some assistance when he gets here?" I asked, hoping to make my point clear.

"Possibly," Gibbs replied, seeing the same thing I was. "I can get DiNozzo on it."

"Tony? Really?"

Gibbs shot me a look that told me that he trusted Tony with the assignment. I shut my mouth about the decision afterward, even if I disagreed with the immature Tony DiNozzo doing something like providing Palmer with a little back bone. I had to get used to people working with me. I had to trust the decision of those higher up than I was instead of me making them on my own.

"What information do you have about the suspect?" I then asked, changing the topic.

"Minimum," Gibbs said, something that I knew was bothering him.

"No names, no trace, no DNA, _nothing_?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Like what we found in there."

"Yeah, a hair who can belong to another person and a human hand we don't know who is belongs to until we get it tested."

"Know the name of the cleaning lady that came in last week?"

"Considering the manager was rude as hell to Ziva and did not like the questioning, no, I did not happen to get it. She was uncooperative and that's being nice. However, I can research any and all possible cleaning services in this county. It shouldn't be a big list. It's going to be tough without Abby being here though."

Gibbs nodded, appearing mellowed in every way. "Anything else?"

"No, not yet." I was counting on something more from Gibbs, but wasn't getting it. I hoped Ziva, McGee and Tony would be able to enlighten me more.

Feeling that the conversation was over, I got up, leaving Gibbs with Alex. I went into the kitchen, meeting the stony glance of my aunt. When I looked in the direction she was dissatisfied with, I saw Ziva, Tony and McGee in the doorway outside, all of them carrying bags and knocking on the door and yelling, although what they were saying was muffled. I could imagine that they were asking to be let in and my aunt decided it was a great idea to leave them out there with the summer blood suckers. I pitied them. Those insects were _killers_ …

"How many more?" Aunt Mary asked.

I blew out some frustrated air. "Two more, at the most. I promise, Aunt Mary. It won't be much more."


	4. Over the Fire

It was late at night already, maybe close to midnight. Alex was in bed, everyone was fed, I had showered and the fire pit was lit up and going. While Gibbs had retired earlier than I normally have seen him (no boat or booze, I would assume), the four of us sat by the fire, the stars above us bright and twinkling. Ziva, Tony, McGee and I have had not said much to each other since I let them inside, despite my aunt's protests, but the suspect was our minds the whole time. We didn't review the case, not even over dinner, and waited until we knew my aunt to be asleep and we had a place to talk. With Gibbs heading to bed so early, it also gave us some space to get off subject and not fear being slapped in the back of the head or getting yelled at.

I make sure there were marshmallows and sticks for all of us since I was in the mood for a roasting (the other had been too…apparently). Granted, it was annoying that Tony took a branch from behind him and didn't break it apart, resulting in him having more s'mores than practical, but that heated discussion led to a sticky food fight I didn't see coming, most of it going into the fire with bad aiming on all sides. Before long, after the laugher was drifting away, we went into a silence that required someone to take the lead. I knew that Tony was too busy with Ziva (there had been rumors since the bombing and sometimes I see it) and McGee was pretending not to watch, so I took the initiative.

"What do we have on Mr. Special Delivery?" I asked, clearing my throat afterward to be heard. I wanted the attention.

"Huh?" Tony turned to me, annoyed that I disturbed something with Ziva (God forbid). "Too little, I'd say."

"Well, I'm new to the case, for the most part," I confessed. "I heard through the grapevine about him and suddenly got the call from Vance."

"What were you doing there anyway?" Ziva squinted her eyes to study me. "The manager of the motel said you were there for some time and were told to camp out."

I hesitated. I didn't want to let them know what Vance had ordered me to do. It was easy to tell Gibbs, I decided. His team? It was difficult.

"Did someone order you to stake out?" McGee asked.

"Yeah, I was," I admitted, not seeing the hurt in telling them and feeling that they would be told anyway. "He didn't have Gibbs and would have asked him anyway. I was right there and nearby. He didn't give me a time frame to sit out there. He just said to get it done."

"Gibbs wouldn't do it either way," Tony pointed out. "Not yet anyway."

"No," I conceded, "but this guy must have something on him that would have Vance order the hit. Makes me wonder what he knows."

"A lot," McGee remarked in such a way that made me suspicious of what he knew too. "Mr. Special Delivery has gone through several military branches. I bet some of the officers up there want him dead."

"I'm sure." Ziva was quiet.

"And it's not just us in the Navy and Marines, but the Air Force too." Tony took out pen and paper from his back pocket. "What do we have?"

"He only kills enlisted personnel," McGee suggested.

"Right! There aren't any victims that are officers, are there?" Ziva rubbed her chin quickly, as if to pull a thought out of her head. "All of them have been overseas, either in Iraq or Afghanistan."

"So, he hits people coming home?" I asked.

"Well, they've had two or more tours," Tony admitted, looking up from his writing. "Lyddy, happen to have some computers in the house?"

"One with hardly any Internet." I checked the three faces, searching for something I knew I shouldn't, but did out of habit anyway. "Ok, so we have someone running across the three military branches, killing without discrimination, on those who came back home after two plus tours. It doesn't make sense. It's like there's no pattern, no MO, nothing. It's random."

"That's the only links we have," McGee said, sounding defeated.

"Ok, did anyone check to see if they were in the same schools before the military maybe?" I asked. "Same hometowns, states, something? A murderer can't be _this_ random."

"I know two of the victims were in the same high school," Ziva replied. "They went through base training together."

"AIT too?"

"What's that?"

"Post base training, Ziva. Do you know they went through it all the way?"

"Not known." Ziva pressed her lips together tightly, as if willing herself to keep a secret. "That's all we have. By the time we were onto connecting the rest of the victims, we were told to come up here."

"Vance had us out the door quicker than we can say 'Eureka!'". Tony stood up, wiping away some imaginary dirt of off his arms, and sat back down, putting the pen and paper away. "Gibbs didn't like it much either. He and Vance argued for an hour before he had us in the cars, not saying why and how. Didn't have time to pack, just grabbed a day bag and we ran. And boy, let me tell you how long the state of Maine is…"

"Very." It was becoming more and more mysterious for me. "Why would Vance want you all out and here? I could have handled it, if he gave me the information and didn't just drop me in without a clue in hell. Bad enough I might need to dumpster dive tomorrow."

"McGee can join you," Tony said flippantly. "He's better with his feet sticking straight up."

Immediately, McGee moved in punched Tony in the shoulder. Then, he sat back down. "Am not. And that last time was an accident."

"How can doing a head stand in a dumpster be considered an accident?" Ziva asked. It was a good question in my book.

"I'm wondering the same thing." I cocked an eyebrow, showing McGee that I was interested in the story.

"Ok, enough of this." McGee sought to change the topic. "We've got eight victims, a killer on the loose and no evidence. This is getting to Gibbs. Has anyone notice that yet?"

 _That was quick_. I smiled, seeing Ziva and Tony exchange glances.

"Yeah, it would be, if nobody, even us, can find anything," Tony said smoothly. "I'm sure there's a clink in the armor somewhere. This guy can't be all slick. So, Lyddy, tell us about this dumpster diving. What's this got to do with the case?"

"Gotta find the cleaning lady or the company that did room 19," I explained. "If she has some information, that might get us somewhere, it might be the next step. For all we know, it could be a dead end."

"How many cleaning companies are in this area anyway?" Tony looked around. "Two, three? This place doesn't seem to be so business friendly."

"Well, you have that store everybody likes," Ziva began, trying to think of the name. She seemed to be working it in her mind, like it was on the tip of her tongue.

"Walmart? Kmart?" McGee suggested.

"Sears? Lowes?" I chimed in, not sure of what Ziva was talking about.

"Walmart! That's it!" Ziva got excited. "They might get the small businesses bankrupt. The motel could have used someone to bring in the equipment and hired someone they knew. It's a large area to cover."

"But there's always a business out there without the 'do it yourself' attitude," I argued. "I doubt someone like Anne Pelletier would do that. Besides, she strikes me as lazy and stupid. What kind of motel runs on naming yourself whoever you please without question and turns a blind eye to everything? Don't you think our suspect, the way she described him, was a little suspicious anyway? I would have checked him out and demanded something that would track him down better."

"I would say, but nobody thinks like us," McGee remarked. "However, in this neck of the woods, people seem to know their neighbors or would turn a blind eye anyway. It doesn't seem like they follow the law here all the time."

"Back woods justice." Tony leaned back in his seat, thinking. "I like it. Sounds like a good movie I saw one time, when –"

"Don't want to hear it!" Ziva and I yelled in unison.

Tony turned to McGee. "What, McGoo? Not joining in with the women? Might be the first step towards not being feminine anymore."

"McGee? _Feminine_?" I pretended to be shocked. "I could hardly tell."

Tony took a random marshmallow out of a bag next to him and threw it at me. It went through the fire and drew thin black lines on the white body. It missed me of course. I ducked, grabbing it midair and throwing it back, doing it so fast that maybe Ziva alone caught the movement. It hit Tony squarely on the forehead, which surprised him momentarily. He was stunned, slowly going for the item when something went through his mind, like a light bulb lit up.

"Hey, hey, hey," Tony declared, slowly looking at all of us, "Lyddy has a point. The victims all came from Silver Spring, Maryland, before being stationed where they were. If they went to the same schools…"

"They're scattershot though, Tony, like you said." McGee groaned. "They're all in different military branches. How many times can we go over this?"

"Hey, Tony might be onto something." Ziva's face lit up too. "There might be a local club or even a brotherhood –"

"Or something similar," I added.

"That all these people might have been a part of," Tony finished. "Something that our murderer might have been spurned from or even ejected from. He might even have been part of it."

"It might be something," McGee admitted, "but we need more evidence."

"We need Abby," Ziva simply said.

"We need more than one computer and limited Internet access." I swatted at an insect that was buzzing near me. "You know, with that thought, I'm heading in."

"Aww, Lyddy needs to get up early?" Tony pouted, as if he were making fun of me. "I thought we were done going in before midnight?"

"I _am_ heading in after midnight." I took out my phone from my pocket and checked the time before putting it away. "Technically, Tony, it's now one in the morning. I have maybe six hours max before Alex is up and needing his morning bottle. Put out the fire before you guys head inside and make sure the embers don't get past the stones. Bring in the food and pick up the garbage. If you need anything, I'll be upstairs. Good night."

I sat up and walked away, hearing the three behind me say good night, although Tony was mumbling something about the motherly orders. I rubbed my tired eyes as I ambled back to the house, quietly opening the door and leaving it unlocked behind me. I wasn't surprised to see Gibbs by the kitchen window though. He was watching the three by the fire pit, the yellow and orange flames dancing on his face. I joined him, feeling a quick side hug and kiss to the forehead. It had been a long time since Gibbs had done that. I didn't even know what I did to merit such good treatment this time other than being family. It made me wary for some reason, most of it being why he hadn't slapped the back of my head yet.

"What did you come up with?" Gibbs asked.

"How do you figure we were talking about the case?" I watched as Ziva threw something at Tony and McGee ducking in time when she turned on him. I just could not see what it was. "I thought you went to bed."

Gibbs shrugged his shoulders. "What else would you be talking about?"

"About how McGee is feminine and Tony and Ziva are eying each other."

"We knew about this."

"Well, we figured all of the victims came from Silver Spring, Maryland. They could have been part of some school gang or club before being sent their separate ways."

"Check out any cleaning companies?"

"Not yet. I'm going to do it first thing in the morning."

Gibbs nodded. "Alex is sleeping."

I smiled. "You've been watching him this entire time. You didn't go to bed."

"Somebody had to. You getting used to them?"

"I've been used to them, Gibbs. I'm not used to working with a team and so unexpectedly too. I've never had to deal with more than two people at a time and that was rare. I was alone or had a single boss I had to answer to."

"You're married."

"That's different. Keith and I hardly see each other anyway."

The tone of my voice seemed sad. It was a good thing that Keith took the offer to go back into the Air Force and be an officer, I suppose, but that meant longer periods of time away from each other. It always felt empty in our house when I was home without a case, like a pea in a can, and my echoing footsteps were always lonely to my ears. He was always on missions he could not tell me about and the cases I had could not be disclosed to him unless he inquired from other channels. Too many secrets had to be kept and it didn't seem like a marriage to me, although government work was in our blood. When we were together though, at least we couldn't get enough of the other.

Distance makes the heart grow fairer, I think. That's what makes our time together so special.

"I understand," Gibbs then offered, his voice meaning it.

Right then and there, I could have admitted what I knew, but I didn't. I just smiled and nodded, aware that perhaps Gibbs was on the other side of the coin, leaving so many people behind instead of being the one at home. I didn't ask for any explanation either. I just accepted the second hug, this time a full one, and put my arms around his shoulders. I didn't lean my head there like I wanted to. I needed comfort for my self-pity, but I couldn't allow myself that. I couldn't allow myself to be like that anymore.

I let go of Gibbs. "I'll get on the phone tomorrow morning," I promised. "In the meantime, I think I need some sleep."

Without another word, I headed upstairs. I stopped in Alex's room quickly, seeing that he was still sleeping. He had rolled over as I watched him in the dark, drooling over himself as he sighed in contentment. Smiling, I left his room, checking in on Aunt Mary. She was snoring all right, enough to wake the dead personally, and she seemed safe (in her dreams anyway). I went into my own bedroom by then, checking the hallways before it one last time, even though I was sure Gibbs had done it just minutes ago. I shut the door behind me, allowing my back to slide down it. I sat there, thinking. So much emotion went through my mind, but I had to cut it all away. I had so much more to think about, so much to learn and so much I had at stake.

 _Tomorrow is going to be a long day._ I was sure about it.


	5. A Small Glimpse

Early the next morning, with Alex in one arm after his breakfast of formula and cereal, I leaned against the kitchen counter, using the other arm to flip through the phone book. Granted, I could have easily used the Internet on the computer, but with limited data per day and it being so slow and not up to Gibbs' speed (fast and faster), I wasn't taking any chances. It was easier to flip through the old fashioned way anyway, since everyone advertised their services in the phone book up here anyway and the internet was just another luxury. The tiny print was escaping me though. It blurred and danced away from my eyes like Alex running from me, I felt that tired.

Just as I was squinting, I heard some footsteps behind me from the living room.. McGee was the first to wake up, sporting some loose pajamas and bare feet. I didn't bother staring at him and starting a conversation, although I was sure he was too sleepy to see that he was putting on a show (a quick glance told me everything), and just motioned with my head to the perking coffeemaker. I even halted my search for cleaning companies to pull a mug out of the cabinet above my head and hand it to McGee behind me.

McGee mumbled something akin to thanks and went for the coffeemaker, pulling his pants up thankfully. Soon, I heard the pot hit the mug, but also some soft swearing. I swiveled my head in time to see some coffee hit the floor. I turned away, trying hard not to giggle, and grabbed a dish towel for clean-up, tossing it at McGee. I saw it hit his head, falling to the floor faster than he realized. Finally waking up, he picked up the towel and started cleaning up, holding the coffee pot with his other hand so that he didn't spill anymore in the process.

"What are you up to?" McGee then asked, putting the towel down on the floor and pouring himself a decent cup, now that he was more awake.

"Cleaning companies," I replied, moving Alex to my other arm because it fell asleep. "Internet is too slow. My eyes would spot something better on paper. I just need to make a mental list."

McGee went to the refrigerator to search for some dairy and came back, pulling out a spoon from the drawer and sugar container on the left. He mixed his concoction and sipped, grinning. At my prompt, he went back to the refrigerator to put the creamer away.

"I don't have cell reception up here," McGee offered, something I figured out anyway.

"Reset your phone," I suggested. "Only thing that worked with me."

"Have an idea of where we're going with your search?" McGee raised an eyebrow, not used to using something other than a computer.

"I don't know." I took a pen and paper out of the drawer next to me and set it on the counter. "We can rule out anything in Canada, since it would be annoying to do the exchange in money and dealing with Border Patrol anyway. Everything else in either in Caribou, Houlton or Presque Isle. We can rule out the sole carpet cleaners and the chimney cleaners because it doesn't make sense, so that leaves us with two places in Presque Isle. One is Four-Ever Services and the other Country Cleaners."

"Are you sure those are the only places there?"

"I can continue looking, but the phone book is pretty accurate. You can check the internet, but it's pretty slow."

McGee groaned. "Vance could have sent us anywhere… _anywhere_ …and he sent us here. Why the hell did Mr. Special Delivery come up _here_?"

"For this reason alone, I would assume," I replied crisply. "He came somewhere he can use cash, not be suspected and where an old Air Force base is."

" _What_? Where is it?"

"Loring Air Force base? It's about a five minute drive from here. It's supposedly closed, but I believe there might be activity there. The National Guard also does drills there and Border Patrol likes running through there. Regardless, it's too easy to get lost up here near Canada. Laws are looser, they don't care what people do and they don't care about the present administration, with a big fuck you to them."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Bunch of rednecks. Gotta love them though."

McGee sighed, sipping his coffee. "This isn't going to be easy."

"But checking out two cleaning companies will be easier," I pointed out. "Two of us can head out and the other two can find a decent internet connection, maybe at the local library, and work from there."

"Small town libraries don't offer much in the way of services."

"Try Houlton then. They've got more resources."

Soon, our conversation was interrupted. "Who has more resources?"

Gibbs soon entered the kitchen in sweatpants and his NIS t-shirt, heading immediately for the cabinet for a mug and to the coffeemaker. He poured himself a large cup and drank it black, as usual. He stared at me and McGee intently. The gaze even made Alex squirm in my arms. I moved to put him in a playpen in the dining room, much to his dismay (even the toys did not appeal to him), and looked to Gibbs with the whining in the background.

"Don't you think it's a little too early for this?" I asked Gibbs.

"No," he replied in a gruff tone. "What you got?"

"Two cleaning companies possible," I offered. "Two of us can go out that way and the other two can head to a place where there's internet and research our theory."

Gibbs nodded. "What else?"

"Other than discussing how effortless it is to hide out here, nothing much," I admitted, almost feeling the smack on the back of my head. "We'd get more as the day goes on."

Again, Gibbs nodded, continuing on his morning routine. It wasn't a good sign, I suspected, and thought that he perhaps was not awake enough or was in the same mood as the night before. He was tougher on me when I was younger and more naïve, always pushing me to do better and to work harder before I was on my own. This was too laidback for him…and Ziva and Tony weren't even up yet. Even McGee was a little nervous, I'd say, shuffling his feet and heading out of the kitchen.

"I'd better get online and do a little research," McGee muttered, rushing off before I could ask him if he wanted breakfast cooked and deciding anyway to cook it. This left me alone with Gibbs.

"I'm taking Tony," I volunteered.

"Why?" Gibbs asked.

"McGee is better at researching. Ziva has sharp eyes. Tony is better with interrogating and could lead."

"Good point."

Checking on Alex quickly, seeing him semi-content in the playpen near McGee and gleefully moving some wooden blocks around, I came back into the kitchen, jotting down the names and addresses of the places we needed to visit before putting the pen and phone book away. Gibbs watched me in some interest, soon going back to passively continuing with his coffee. I then went for the cabinets next to the sink, pulling out a pan and placing it on the stove. I was soon at the refrigerator, pulling out three cartons of eggs and other foodstuffs – vegetables, butter, ham and everything in between – and looked at Gibbs. He met my gaze with a quick smile and moved out of my way.

"Breakfast?" I inquired nicely, hoping to God that Gibbs would give us the time to enjoy some food.

Again, there was that third nod. I took it as it was this time around and proceeded to start taking orders, remembering mornings when I was living with Gibbs. He allowed me free rein of the house for the most part and even indulged my cooking. Granted, he loved it and had less takeout (even Fornell was a frequent guest because he saved money that way), but this seemed a little off, even for Gibbs. I figured now that it might be a phase, something he'd get out of once this investigation got underway and we heard more from Vance.

 _I heard that hearing from Vance always got him on edge._ And I wasn't going to be the one to remind Gibbs about the director either.

~00~

Tony and I soon reached the destination a few hours later, at about eleven (and after much persuading to Aunt Mary about watching the baby and with Gibbs promising to keep an eye out). We parked my car in the small lot of Four-Ever Service and exited together. I felt lucky being with Tony today, even though I pegged him to be the biggest pain in the ass ever. After smelling breakfast, he and Ziva soon woke up and were clamoring for food (even ensuring that Ziva's was in accordance to Jewish food regulations) and seemed content, much like the others, afterward. There was no teasing or taunting from him and I was receiving civil conversation and general inquiries about where we were going and why. Even heading inside the building was a breeze, with no comments from Tony's mouth about the conversation from the night before.

A man at the desk seemed genuinely ready to help us and was overwhelmed with it too. "Can I help you?" he asked, his nametag saying that his name was Greg Cyr.

"NCIS," Tony immediately said, flashing his badge just as I pulled mine out and showed the man who I was. "Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo and Special Agent Lydia Bolton."

"We're here to ask some questions in connection to an investigation," I explained calmly, trying to keep the situation as vague as possible. Nobody needed to know about Mr. Special Delivery yet.

"Ask away," Greg said cheerfully, waving his nametag and smiling. "We're here to do what we can with anything the cops can do."

"We're part of the naval investigative services, not the PD," Tony corrected. "This is in regards to a search for a man in the area."

"More specifically, if your company has been called on to the Riverside Motel in Caribou," I added. "Our suspect was last spotted there and was told a company cleaned his room."

"Not recently, no," Greg answered, rubbing his chin. "Riverside has not called us in some time. We used to clean up the rooms, but it got too much and they weren't paying."

I wasn't surprised. "When was the last time you were there?"

"The company? Some months ago." Greg sat down at the desk and typed away at the computer. "I can pull up the invoices, if you need them, with the proper documentation, of course. We keep records about all of our clients."

"That wouldn't be necessary yet," Tony reassured Greg. "We thank for you for your cooperation though."

Without another word, Tony and I left. We entered the car and I started it up, feeling strange, oddly enough. I was about to put it in reverse and head to the next place when Tony put a hand on my arm to stop me. It wasn't to be annoying, I saw, and he was serious for once. And here I was, expecting some sort of idiocy I needed to defuse.

"What do you think?" Tony asked. "I personally never liked a guy who knew too much."

"He was a little guarded," I admitted, trying not to show my true feelings. "I didn't like his comment about getting our information with the proper paperwork."

"I didn't either."

"It seemed staged, Tony. Think we should go back in there and talk with a manager?"

"I agree. Let's go."

After turning off the car once more, Tony and I headed back inside. Immediately, we saw that nobody was at the desk. We checked the hallways nearby and the parking lot quickly and found nothing. We then decided to knock on the few office and closet doors remaining inside. Tony tried the first one and found it locked. The second, which I tried, yielded the same results. I pulled out a lock picking kit I usually kept hidden (along with my knife) and tossed it at Tony. He managed to open the first door and we entered with guns in hand, finding nothing more than cleaning supplies. The second he opened before handing me back the kit showed an office, which was also empty and holding no interest to us.

"Let's check out the back," I suggested. Tony nodded, the both of us cautiously walking with the same weapons held aloft.

There were a few more doors and they showed the same thing, although they had been unlocked (one was even jammed at the door knob). When we reached the back parking lot though, we suddenly encountered another worker of the company. There was no nametag on him, just a uniform and some fright from him. He tried running, but Tony grabbed him by the shoulder before he got too far. He slammed the man into a nearby wall outside and pinned him with his knee, lowering his weapon slightly as he pulled out his badge and introduced us. I ran over and did the same.

"What's this about?" the man asked shakily. "If this is about the pot I was smoking in the company van, I admit it. I did it. It was me."

Tony and I exchanged looks that conveyed how infuriating this job got sometimes. "This isn't about your illegal habits," I began. "This is about a man we just talked to at the desk."

"You know, Greg Cyr?" Tony threw out, to kick start the man's memory. "A little cheery? Seems too informational about his rights?"

"Dark haired and eyes, medium weight and height?" I added.

"I don't know who you're talking about," the man admitted. "We haven't had any customer service person at the desk since the last girl quit a few months ago. The boss hasn't gotten to getting anybody to fill in the position."

Tony and I exchanged looks again, sensing some trouble this time. "Are you sure there wasn't anyone here a few minutes ago?" I asked.

"Sure as the smoke in the van," the man replied honestly. "I'm the only one here for the most part and I do maintenance. Everybody is out to lunch now. Allows me to come in and do things, you know what I mean?"

Tony released the man, handing him a business card and putting his gun away (a motion I copied too). "You can go. Just have your boss contact me. We'll be back soon."

Without another word, we went back inside and left through the front door, our minds thinking that we do need to head back with a search warrant. We both climbed back into the car and I started it again, sitting there this time to think. I just couldn't believe it. We missed someone, a person my gut was telling me was our suspect or someone close to Mr. Special Delivery (which was possible, even though we had no evidence), and he slipped quickly through our fingers. However, we had a possible name and a description, if it had not been altered. That was better than nothing at this point.

It seemed too simple though. Mr. Special Delivery or his accomplice showed up somewhere we were checking out. It seemed that he knew where we were going and why and I didn't know how he did it. He could be spying on us and stalking for all I know, in the hopes that he'd lead us off the trail, like this one almost did. It fit with the profile, from what we've seen with the way his victims had been killed (from what I've heard), and it most certainly can be our downfall.

"You think we could be on the right track?" Tony asked, deferring to me, as if I was the leader and he wasn't. "I mean, we just had a disappearing customer service guy, a pothead maintenance guy and nothing to show for it."

"I'd say we're being followed," I replied, pulling out my cell phone and handing it to Tony. As I started the car in reverse, I added in a more commanding tone, "Call McGee and Ziva, make sure they're ok. We're going to the next place and interviewing the next people. We'll then report back to Gibbs."

Tony looked behind him, shuddering as he took my phone and added numbers to my contacts list (seeing as how I knew his phone not to be in service in this area). "I guess you're right, Madam Loner. Hit it!"

* * *

 **Just a quick note here...**

 **I appreciate everything you, as a reader, have done. At this point, even though there are hardly any reviews, I love all of the traffic this story has been getting. I feel excited that people do care about this and would take the time to go through what I've written.**

 **HOWEVER, what I don't appreciate are reviews that are negative and offer no constructive criticism. While I like that people point things out, I don't like how you don't bother writing something a little more constructive and not actually read the chapter. Please read the chapters and actually offer something better than just "it doesn't make sense" and some lame explanation.**

 **Thank you!**


	6. Middle of the Ride

I listened to Tony exchange barbs with McGee before he hung up some minutes later, satisfied with himself. While Tony was being his normal beaming personality (and I say that lightly), I did hear some things from McGee about what happened on their end, other than cursing me for making him head to the library and have limited time on a computer. He told Tony that they listed all eight victims and are trying to see if they were in the same schools or clubs or not and found out that two more were in the same district of schools in Silver Spring, but not exactly the same school. We have yet to debunk the theory though and that's what matters.

Tony hung up, annoyed. "So, this is what I get for being senior field agent. A handful of technical terms, troubling times, some whining and more whining."

"It could be worse," I pointed out. "We could be doing that dumpster diving I told you about last night."

"That's McGeek's job though. Or would it be Ziva's?"

"You know Gibbs wouldn't just allow McGee and Ziva the honor because they're junior agents. He'd be making us do it too."

"Oh, yeah, that's right! And you're still a Probie."

"Nope, haven't been for quite some time now. Remember, I've been with the agency for almost five years and grew out of that."

I was too gleeful in my revelation. I knew that probationary periods can last a lifetime with a federal agency, especially with NCIS, but I grew out of that a couple of years ago, when I was onboard the _USS Ronald Reagan_ briefly. I don't think too many people knew about, especially with Gibbs' team, since I only talked with Gibbs, Duck, Director Shepard (when she was alive and not on the trail of some moron) and sometimes Abby after joining NCIS. However, leaving out the details of my life with the rest of the team, especially Tony, was a plus. I was loving every moment of it.

"Has time flown that fast?" Tony asked, eying me as if I were a grown child. "Wow. Last I saw you, we were packing the truck at your dad's and Gibbs was giving him a few shoves in the doorway. Then, he tried punching McGee in the face…got Ziva…and almost got his throat slit, ninja style."

"Let's not talk about that." I wasn't in the mood to hash over old news. "Besides, we haven't talked much over the years. You guys were at the wedding, you came by Gibbs' place a few times and I think that's about it."

"And hearing about baby center through the grapevine, after the office pranks with the coffee and your morning sickness. However, being there are two entirely difficult things. It's almost sickening to see baby puke."

"Well, I think also Keith tried punching you in the face too, which should make that baby puke better than a bloody nose. That should count for something in terms of contact after the wedding."

"Yeah, because he thought you cheated on him with me and he thought that I did the seducing. As if you need it anyway."

"It won't be the first time people went after us and pranks had been pulled, Tony. Why are you so surprised? You expected Keith to be nice about it?"

Tony snorted. I took it as agreement and kept on driving, hoping that this was the end of the poking and prodding. We were soon at the parking lot of Country Cleaners and that made me relieved that we were back in business. I stopped the car engine and was about to get out when Tony stopped me, putting his hand on mine, the left without any rings, especially my wedding band. Still seated on the passenger side, he grinned and appeared in every way awkward, as if he had something on his mind and didn't know how to ask it.

"What is it, Tony?" I wasn't in the mood for his antics as I pushed his hand away from mine. "Spit it out."

"You think Gibbs is enjoying this?" Tony asked, his grin something that made me want to punch him in the face.

"What?" I was confused. "Enjoying _what_?"

"You know. Being a grandpa." Tony winked, his eyes twinkling with laughter.

"Tony, you're damned near impossible." I shoved him against the door, his head hitting the window pretty hard without cracking it. "I'm not Gibbs' kid, no more than you, Ziva and McGee."

"Then, why did he allow you to live with him while you finished school?"

"I asked. I needed to. I had punched my father in the face and he was the only person I could turn to and after the near kidnapping, you should know better. Jay was heading back to base and he wasn't going to bring his kid sister with him. My mother and sister were dead. The rest of the family could not take me in, remember? Friends aren't in my life anymore? Trust issues?"

"You were twenty- _three_."

"I'll always be Jay's kid sister, a concept you cannot understand. And in many ways, I still was a kid at the time too. However, did Gibbs and Fornell not enjoy themselves for the year I was there, more so than they normally do?"

"Well, I gotta say that modernizing Gibbs' home a little, cleaning it and putting food in the frig was a plus."

" _Modernizing_? God. I had the internet up for the time I was in school and paid for it and then transferred that service to my new place. I cooked the food when I was there, so that was normal. And _cleaning_? Really, Tony? I feel that my responsibility."

"Considering Gibbs is never there except building things in his basement…"

"Well, I heard he never finished that boat from years back."

"I think he did and just burned it."

"Was it named after an ex-wife?"

Tony laughed. "I think so."

I shook my head, feeling it spin. "Now, are we done asking stupid questions?"

"I guess so." Tony rubbed his head, to make sure he wasn't hurt from the shove. "Let's head out."

Tony and I got out of the car and went inside the building. It wasn't as friendly-looking as the other place, I have to admit, although we found some seats and waited until someone came up the front desk. Even then, the young girl did not pay attention to us, choosing the music in her ear buds and bubble gum over us. She went to her computer, typing something pretty fast and laughing as she did. Assuming that she wasn't doing her job and on something like Youtube or Facebook, we both still had to wince as the music came to our ears. Even as a music lover, I was appalled and had to prevent myself from gagging.

 _Hey_ _,_ _don't write yourself off yet._ _  
_ _It's only in your head you feel  
Left out or looked down on._ _  
_ _Just do your best_ _,_ _do everything you can._ _  
_ _Don't you worry what their  
Bitter hearts are going to say._

 _It just takes some time._ _  
_ _Little girl, you're in the middle of the ride._ _  
_ _Everything, everything will be just fine._ _  
_ _Everything, everything will be all right._

In his usual manner, Tony got up from his chair and went to the girl, tapping his fingers on the solid surface and grinning like the Cheshire Cat. He then leaned forward on the high counter, waiting patiently for some time until the girl happened to look up from her work and gasped. She immediately pulled the ear buds out and turned off the music on what appeared to be an iPod, seeming in every way to be frightened. She even gave him a smile, but it was shaky and edging towards twitching at the corners from the surprise.

"I'm really sorry," the girl cooed, eying Tony with interest. "Can I help you?"

Tony motioned to me to join him. When I did, we both flashed our badges. "NCIS," Tony announced. "I'm Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo and this is Special Agent Lydia Bolton."

"NCIS?" the girl asked, popping another bubble from her mouth and continuing to chew.

"Naval Criminal Investigative Services," I clarified, exchanging a glance with Tony that was incredulous that not everyone has heard of us.

"Military cops?" The girl frowned. "I'm sorry, but the bases have been closed –"

"We're not here in regards to the bases," I quickly interrupted, avoiding the temptation to roll my eyes. "We're here in regards to the Riverside Motel. We're wondering if your company had been cleaning the rooms in the last two weeks."

"I – I don't know," the girl stammered.

"Listen," Tony started before seeing the nametag, "umm, Lisa, right?"

"Right." Poor little mousy Lisa lowered her eyes as Tony took over, pushing me to the side.

"Well, Lisa, this is important to us," Tony explained in the most seductive voice I ever heard from him, something that grated on my nerves… _badly_. "We're under an investigation and searching for a man that resides in the Riverside some time ago. He has not been seen since."

By then, Tony lowered his head, staring straight into Lisa's eyes, as if he were on level with her. "We need to know who cleaned Room 19 of the motel maybe a week ago," he continued. "We would need to talk with the person who did. We also need the times and dates she was in that room."

Just as Tony turned away, Lisa went to work. It must have been five minutes (five impatient minutes I had to deal with an insufferable Tony, who was grinning at me widely) before Lisa came up with something. She pressed a button on her mouse and turned her chair around, pulling some invoices out of the printer. She handed them to Tony, but her motions seemed to tell me that she was melting under Tony's gaze and was doing everything in her power to not flirt with him under such a serious situation. I had to do everything in my own power to not snatch them from Tony in a rude gesture, allowing the charade to play out instead.

Tony scanned the documents quickly before returning them to Lisa. "Thank you. So, these are the dates and times that the cleaning lady has been in Room 19?"

"Yes," Lisa confirmed. "It's about once every three days, usually when there's a strange smell. She last went in there about a week about, when that side of the motel complained that it was getting worse. We haven't had a call for that room ever since."

"Where she did say it was coming from?" Tony inquired, winking.

"The walls, which have been washed and dried carefully," Lisa replied. "We're the best that we do and we got it out. We did better than the other guys down the road, who did not solve the problem."

"Four-Ever Service?" I interjected, before this got _way_ out of hand.

Lisa glared at me, annoyed that I butted in. "Yes. We're better than they are. They started doing work in there and quit for some reason."

"I would assume they can't do the job like you can," Tony reassured Lisa. Folding and then pocketing the paperwork, he added, "Now, I'm sure you know when your cleaning lady will be in, so we can talk with her…"

"Tomorrow," Lisa said. "I promise, Special Agent DiNozzo. I'll call her and she'll come in, just for you. Just be here around noontime. It'll be her lunchtime if she works anyway. I'm sure the manager will give her more time off though."

"I have faith in you to get things done, Lisa, just as you did right now.." Tony smiled, pulling out his business card and handing it over to the girl. "Call me when that cleaning lady comes in. I'll be here as quickly as I can. Now, Lyddy, how long does it take to get here from the house?"

"Twenty minutes." I was doing everything in my own power to not clench my teeth. It was maddening to watch Tony do this.

"See?" Tony winked one more time to Lisa. "We'll be in touch."

Swiveling on one heel and doing a one-eighty, Tony walked out, waving to Lisa all the way. I followed him, fuming all the way and even pushing him out on the last leg, and unlocked the car on the driver side alone as we approached our ride back, hoping to get some sort of admission of guilt from the senior field agent. I got in, watching Tony try the car handle and knock on the glass window as I kept a stoic face and pretended he did not exist. I locked my side of the car and then grinned myself as Tony begged and cajoled me into opening up his side. I waited for the apology and ignored the rest, hearing it as it came ten minutes later, the exact wording being that he wouldn't treat me like the extra wheel again and that he was past flirting with crazy chicks.

I pushed a small button to my left and allowed Tony in. He got in, shutting the door behind him and glaring at me in exasperation, trying to say something to counter this rebellious act, but choosing not to and maybe hoping that this wouldn't get back to Gibbs (even I knew that Gibbs did not like Tony flirting with the girls). I grinned, ignoring him as I started the car. I didn't say anything, perhaps thinking my actions childish, but I was happy on the inside, countering the point of being puerile with the fact that Tony was a pain in the ass and needed to learn a lesson. He knew what he did got on my nerves. Just hearing him break one of Gibbs' rule was even better though.

Just as I was pulling out and heading into traffic, Tony's cell phone rang. He answered it in his usual way, even starting in on the teasing before anyone could greet him, which made me think it was McGee or Ziva. I didn't know who was on the other line, but whoever it was and whatever was said…it made Tony pale when he stopped his usual gabbing. He quickly hung up and demanded that I head to the Caribou Public Library without further delay, yelling at me to even go over the speed limit to get there.

"What?" I was confused, more than ever before. "Why? What's happened?"

"Mr. Special Delivery was there," Tony said as I ran through a red light near Walmart and got the cops on our tail. "He left a package there."

* * *

 **Lyrics are from the Jimmy Eat World song, "The Middle".**


	7. Breakthroughs Through the Blunderers

With at least three annoying police officers from the county sheriff's office following us and many explanations to them later (and trust me when I say that that took a lot), we arrived back in downtown Caribou, parking near the Shop and Save and walking over. After showing our badges to every officer on duty, we passed the yellow tape and the light smoke ahead. We did not see McGee and Ziva yet, but there was time for them later, after we processed the scene. Tony and I considered that crime scene a priority before we had Gibbs on our ass, demanding to know what happened and why.

Ambling up the concrete wheelchair ramp, Tony and I put on gloves he had handy from his crime scene pack. He checked the door, already hanging on its hinges. There wasn't much damage past that though, luckily for us, although the whole town seemed to have their eyes on us as we surveyed the blackened floors and walls with some trepidation. We ignored them as we started taking pictures, sketched and started searching for witnesses, focused on perhaps the why and how. Sadly for us though, there wasn't much to get on because there was so little anyway. Apparently, the only witness that saw Mr. Special Delivery did not seem to be talking and was babbling on his way to Cary Medical Center. Even so, just as Tony and I finalized everything, Ziva and McGee came up to the bottom of the ramp, watching us from their position and all in smiles. Both of them did not offer to help.

"Anything?" I asked them, studying the doorway again.

"Nothing," Ziva confirmed, sounding just as frustrated as we were. "According to McGee, the Internet was not fast enough for his needs."

"Hardly," McGee conceded. "However, we did find out a few things."

"Oh? And what would that be, McGoo?" Tony stepped by me, eying the inside from the outside now, just to see if there was some angle we missed. "Our theory being torn to shred?"

"On the contrary," McGee replied. "It seemed to support it."

"Our victims were part of a local group in the Junior ROTC, as McGee called it," Ziva added. "Well, it was a group outside of a high school group."

"So, it was a bunch of kids going into the military, varying branches, and doing… _what_ exactly?" Tony soon followed my gaze and I swore he was thinking the same thing I was. There was some fragment of the bomb, something I bagged and tagged quickly. "Well, this seems to be the scare tactic."

"I agree." I moved outside with Tony, the pack and evidence in my hands. "Nothing much damaged anyway. It's an easy fix. I think he got here pretty fast and dropped it off. Any security tapes?"

"Right here." Ziva waved a disc in a case. "That's about all we have."

"And all we're likely to get." Tony shook his head slightly, almost like he did not believe what was happening, and looked to Ziva and McGee. "This was a warning shot. Next time, we might not be so fortunate."

"Next time, I might just get a shot in myself." The tone in Ziva's voice seemed threatening and I knew it to be genuine. There was no mistaking it.

" _If_ there a chance to get him." McGee sounded pretty negative for one who was hardly hurt and got the information he needed anyway. I guessed it had to do with the technology not being so sophisticated here and the lack of cable Internet, something that I was going to be hearing about until the case was closed.

"Anyway," I interrupted, writing some notes down with one hand before putting the kit and evidence down, "what about this group? What did they do? When did they meet? Schools involved?"

"Only a few schools in the Silver Spring area," McGee reported, first looking at me and then Tony, like he was deciding who was more in charge since I seemed to be upping Tony the few times we had been talking. "Three of them, to be exact. Montgomery Blair, Northwood and Coolidge High Schools. Three victims came from Montgomery Blair, three from Northwood and the last two from Coolidge. All of them varied in their ages at the time of their interactions, all of them between sixteen and eighteen. Their after-school group seemed to be more about talking anything else other than outside military activities, from what Ziva and I have read about it. Only description it came on the Silver Spring, Maryland school website was that it was an outlet for students in Junior ROTC or those who were thinking seriously about being in the US military. No copping out, enlistment papers by seventeen or eighteen and coming back every once in a while to compare notes."

"About what in their meetings, I wonder?" Tony seemed serious for once, although we all were not fooled. He had a movie quote on his mind. "I mean, the things you owe end up owing you."

I glanced at Ziva. She said nothing, joining me without question as we punched Tony in each shoulder, me on the left and Ziva on his right. Tony grunted, feigning pain, and pursed his lips together.

"First rule of the Fight Club, Tony?" McGee asked gleefully, almost enjoying that Tony had been hurt this time.

"Never talk about the Fight Club," Tony insisted in a high-pitched voice. "Second rule still says you can't talk about it."

"What's the third?" I asked playfully, watching the lights from the sheriff's car flashing in the parking lot across the street, town hall lighting up like a Christmas tree the way he was being an asshole and showing off.

"You've met me at a very strange time in my life," Tony continued, quitting his melodramatics and seeing the same thing I was across the street. "And that time seems to involve more law enforcement officers, annoying questions we can't answer and Gibbs calling me at any minute."

My phone rang instead. "Good timing," I remarked, picking it up and seeing that it was Gibbs' number. "Bolton."

"Lydia, tell me why DiNozzo isn't answering his phone," Gibbs started. He sounded pretty pissy, but not as much as he usually was. I heard Alex making gurgling noises in the background and assumed that Gibbs had him in one arm, the other keeping my aunt away and the phone at his shoulder.

"I don't know." I turned to Tony, moving the phone away from my mouth. "Check your phone lately, Tony?"

"Huh?" Tony quickly pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and checked it. "Wow. Missed a call from the Boss. Wonder why I didn't hear it?"

"Regardless," I said exasperated. Sighing, I turned back to my own conversation. "Don't know, Gibbs."

"Tell me about what's been going on," Gibbs ordered softly.

"Small bomb at the Caribou Library," I testified automatically, feeling like I was on report and that there was no such thing as a negative answer or even defeat. "Ziva and McGee are fine. Tony and I think it's a notice from Mr. Special Delivery to back away. One witness and he's not talking anytime soon. I think we need to give it a day or so before we try talking."

"Security tapes?"

"Ziva have them."

"Anything else on the victims?"

"It's been confirmed that they went to the same schools and have been in the same groups. There was a Junior ROTC assembly they were a part of. There hasn't been much else on the topic. Not a lot of information."

"Get some. And tell DiNozzo to answer his damned phone next time."

Gibbs then hung up before I told him about the bomb fragment that Tony and I noted and bagged. Sighing, I put my phone and looked to Tony, McGee and Ziva evenly, the three of them anxious to hear what Gibbs had to say. I grinned grimly and then turned to Tony. I knew that he was going to get it once we arrived back at the farmhouse and it was going to be popcorn worthy entertainment for maybe a few hours. I was pretty sure that Ziva and McGee would have agreed with me too.

"So, does anyone know when Abby is coming?" I was hoping to get Gibbs off of my mind.

"By the look on your face, the Boss isn't too happy," McGee observed, changing the topic expertly.

"I'm not saying who's in trouble now." I made a point of glancing a few times at Tony. "However, we need Abby, especially with what we have now."

"Wait, what?" Tony seemed surprised, although I knew it was another act. "Me, in _trouble_? Naw, can't be. I'm senior field agent."

"And a _very_ special agent too," I added, remembering that it was how Tony introduced himself to me, all those years ago. "I'm sure Gibbs will take it into consideration."

"When? Before or after Tony steps out of the car?" There was a twinkle in Ziva's eyes. I call it mischief, although I think Tony would think differently.

"I don't know." I picked up the kit again, thinking as I saw the sheriff come closer to us and was mostly glaring at me instead of the others, all of whom should have held his interest more than I would have. "I think we should deal with company though."

"You want to do it alone or you want me to?" Tony asked me, finally noting that the sheriff had some sort of recognition in his eyes. It was like he saw some sort of mirage in me, more so than I thought too, and it was perhaps an image from long ago.

"Let's both go," I suggested. While Tony ordered McGee and Ziva to take everything to the car and to the police station across the street on his word, I moved forward, meeting the elderly officer on the sidewalk.

"Haven't seen you in these parts in a while," the sheriff started, shaking my hand. "Sheriff Vincent Cyr."

"Special Agent Lydia Bolton," I greeted, returning the hand shake and allowing my hand to return to my side. I suddenly wished for Tony, hoping that he would stop teasing Ziva and McGee soon and get them down the hill. "I actually haven't been here since I was a child. I don't quite remember you."

"Aren't you Alison's kid?" Cyr asked, his eyes squinting.

"Yes," I admitted, wincing outwardly. I never liked talking about my mother.

"I remember you when you were small. Your mother ran away here a long time ago before going back south. Your brother and sister were there too…Jason and Mara, right?"

"Right."

"Yeah, right. Well, your mother and I were friends a long time back. Just didn't think Alison's younger daughter would come to the old haunts."

"There were different circumstances in which I came here and it turned into another case. Anything you can do to help?"

The sheriff rubbed his chin. "Well, I can talk to the chief if you're having issues. I don't have much power here. However, I'll put in a good word."

"That would be great," I replied, trying my hardest to be nice and feeling like it was forced. There was something I didn't like about the sheriff and that was something I was willing to trust. "We need all the help we can get. Right now, they're holding our human hand and they would need to wait our forensics specialist can get up here before it's compromised. We can't have them taking our evidence and ruining though. It's a federal case. However, some assistance should be here soon. Last I heard, they're still in DC and traveling up."

"Is that so?" Cyr smiled. This was gossip to him, I saw, and it wasn't serious to him. Like everyone else in Aroostock County, everyone else's business was his too and it was always fun to hear some juicy details too.

Thankfully, before I could retort (and there was no other way to answer), Tony soon joined us. I introduced the two to each other and Cyr took Tony's hand too. They chatted about this and that, a mention about Ziva and McGee made. Tony too gave him as few details as I did, just the base basics, which prompted another discussion about Loring Air Force Base between the two for a few minutes. Tony wrote this down, acting as if I didn't talk about it earlier this same morning, and immediately ordered that the scene be cleared and nobody enter, since there was so little security around the area and without military personnel. When Cyr protested, Tony gave him a sharp look that shut him up, something worthy of Gibbs. _That_ alone made it worth the time spent with the county sheriff.

"Anything else, Special Agent DiNozzo?" Cyr inquired, feeling humbled and not the gossip he just was moments before. "I can get those men for you all, twenty-four seven too."

"Yeah," Tony said. "Take our two agents down to your station with escort and make sure the evidence is securely locked and tagged. Extend to them every courtesy as federal agents before allowing them to leave. Make sure there is a separate room with some good Internet. Also, make room for our medical examiner and forensics specialist. Think you can manage?"

"Sure," Cyr mumbled. "Excuse me. I'll ensure the smooth process for you."

Luckily, Cyr left, heading back across the street to give instructions to some men. Tony muttered some sarcastic thanks, finally watching as McGee and Ziva drove around the block, since it was no way to head to the police station the same way Cyr had (it was a one-way). They soon entered the bottom driveway of the police station. Tony and I moved forward for a better view, seeing that they exited the vehicle and were being escorted by some officers and were allowed inside with everything we've found. I sagged my shoulders, feeling some relief. Tony, on the other hand, wasn't as enthusiastic as I was.

"Know what I hate worse than a county full of people with the last name of Cyr?" Tony asked me, his eyes still on the doorway at the station.

"What?" I felt wind whip around my red hair and moved my hand to push it back, but Tony stopped me, his eyes baring into mine. He then turned me to the side to face me fully, his hand still on my arm, stopping to motion to keep the hair from my mouth and eyes.

"Someone who knows more than he should," Tony answered. "Think we should put him on the list of people to question?"

"Without doubt," I said. "Some chatterboxes are worth the wringing. When do you think we should track him down again?"

"He seems to know you better. Invite him for some coffee?"

"I could, outside the house."

Tony moved his hand away from me finally, pushing my hair aside instead of the wind. "Pay a call to the station tomorrow. I think it'll be worth it."

I could not help but smile. "I think so too. Homeward bound?"

Tony twitched his eye, almost like he was feeling that head slap to the back of the head and that it was disturbing him greatly this time. "If you want to call Gibbs that, let's go. But I'm not telling him we didn't get much."

"We'll draw for it in the car," I suggested. "Deal?"

Again, Tony twitched. "Deal."


	8. Warnings

_Send a message to the unborn child.  
Keep your eyes open for a while.  
In a box high up on the shelf,  
Left for you, no one else,  
There's a piece of a puzzle known as life.  
Wrapped in guilt, sealed up tight._

 _What ever happened to the young man's heart?  
Swallowed by pain, as he slowly fell apart…_

 _And I'm staring down the barrel of a 45,  
Swimming through the ashes of another life.  
No real reason to accept the way things have changed.  
Staring down the barrel of a 45…_

It was getting pretty late and I was getting too buzzed, sitting on my bedroom floor as I did and thinking back to earlier in the day with some glee and a little anxiety. Granted, I would have to admit that Tony drawing the short straw meant that he had to tell Gibbs what had happened while were out and about. The head slap was worth it too (and Ziva and McGee had just arrived back from the police station when it was executed on the porch), but it did not take away the sting of this case. There was so much at stake with this guy on the run and too many places to search. On the negative side too, there were more people who knew more than they let on perhaps and we were running out of resources to zero in on anything or anyone in particular.

I didn't think I felt my back on the door, I was getting that drunk and forgetting most of the day. Two bottle of Jack Daniels down for myself (granted, they were the smallest bottles and not nips) and I wasn't even done yet. Hell, I remembered tipping my head back, the prickle of wood trickling down through my mind, and hearing something from far away, a person on the other end of the hallway maybe. I didn't want to deal with it at the moment. I was too down to even care, especially in light of the events of today.

To be honest, it wasn't much of a day after Tony was slapped in the head, which happened some hours after we left Caribou. The great excitement died down quickly as we all recounted what happened, from the moment we left to the time we came back. Gibbs wasn't pleased, especially when hearing that Mr. Special Delivery was so close to us all on both counts, and he even banged his fist against the porch railing in frustration, demanding that we do more. Frustrated, he then walked away into the yard just as Alex was screaming from his playpen inside. We all looked to each other for guidance and decided to appear busy. Tony elected himself to check in on the police department, leaving quickly. McGee volunteered to go on my computer and research a little more. Ziva wanted nothing more than to comb over the photos and sketches Tony and I had and start a profile on the main suspect using the tactics he showed.

Me? I went into family bliss, a sharp pain in my heart for Keith when I remembered that he was not here. When the three split up, I was back inside to my son. I coaxed him back into a sort of peaceful heaven, even managing to sit with him on the couch and play with him. Granted, Alex wanted nothing more than to show off his skills at walking, but that was beside the point. He also did not like Aunt Mary hovering so close and whimpered to see her behind me, although I delighted in letting him go and eying him guide himself along the coffee table and chairs. He managed to walk himself to the TV as Aunt Mary left us and then stumble, crying as he did.

Immediately, my heart sank and I was close to tears too as I got up and put him to my shoulder. I could not help it. Ever since Alex was born, I would cry with him over the smallest things like getting his shots or him falling. I managed to hide these feelings well around other people and willed myself to be the strong one when Alex sighed in contentment each time, although there was a time I broke down with him when he accidentally bit through his lip and I had to take him to the emergency room for stitches. This time though, I was just happy as Alex calmed down, but that soon changed when I saw my aunt again. She just scowled at me when she came back, announcing that everyone had better come to dinner in half an hour or else she was making sure no food was to be had for the missing the next day.

It was unfair, I thought. Aunt Mary was being pissy because of the company, the strain on the last year and even me being away so often now. I ignored the barb though, choosing instead to call everyone together. Ziva and McGee managed to hide in the mud room, where seemed to be the best Internet reception from the hot spot device, and seemed ok with food in the allotted time. I then called Tony, managing to hear from him that he was on his way back anyway before he hung up. Finally, I went to check on Gibbs, calling out as I dared to stick my head outside that dinner was soon.

The event wasn't much of one when everyone came to the dining room table. Everything went as normal, with McGee, Tony and Ziva bickering amongst each other and Gibbs eating silently. I fed Alex in-between the madness, feeling the annoyed glance of my aunt behind me. Again, it was something to ignore. To be honest though, it was disquieting and something that was grating on my nerves. I excused myself and Alex as soon as I could, hearing no orders from Gibbs to do anything for the case. Taking that as a break, I went upstairs and played with Alex some more before it was his bath time. Nobody came up to his room to say good night, so I did it myself, appreciating the silence and the time alone with him. I then waited until I heard the even breathing from him before slipping into my room at the end of the hallway. I hid alcohol in my room, no matter where I was, and Jack Daniels seemed to be my best friend after a day like this anyway.

Another friend was music, a flowing, invisible hand that guided me to sitting on the floor and feeling calmer. I managed to put some speakers to my music device and listened in silence as it caressed me, sipping here and there from the bottles. I had no glasses or a shot. I was satisfied the way I was until the noise from the other end of the hallway came my way and was behind me. I hardly heard the knock on the door. When it became louder, I managed to sober up a little. I shoved the bottles under the bed, hoping that the smell of them would deter anyone from staying long, and opened the door without preamble. On the other end was Gibbs, something that should not have surprised me. I mean, living with him for a year had made me note his habits and being unusually quiet was going to make him interrogate me. Having alcohol around wasn't going to make him go away either. Indeed, he was going to notice it first.

"Mind if I come in?" Gibbs was kind, his eyes expressing some concern.

"Sure." I let him in, feeling a flush from the Jack Daniels come to my face. I closed the door behind me, trying to hide my face, and allowed the bright blush to recede before facing Gibbs.

"Let's talk." Gibbs sat on my bed and patted. I obeyed, my feet touching the bottles with my feet. "What's been going through your mind?"

I could have laughed, but I suppressed it. "Many things."

"The case?"

"Worrying me more than you. I have more at stake."

Gibbs nodded. "You're upset."

"What?" I wondered how he knew other than the smell and the isolation.

Gibbs pointed to the speakers still playing music. Lacuna Coil was playing this time and I did not notice. Sucking my lips in, I got up and stopped the player. I went back to the bed, staring at Gibbs in what I hoped was an expression that displayed my desire to be left alone. That wasn't going to discourage him though. He was more determined and that made me feel cornered. I could have sworn it was all over his face, but he hid that pretty well too. There were too many people around and we weren't alone.

"Where's your husband?" Gibbs asked, perhaps getting to the core of everything.

"I don't know," I admitted. "I haven't known exactly in almost two years."

"Is he assigned to a base still?"

"I guess so. I know he has housing on Anacostia-Bolling when he's staying away for long periods of time."

"Family-sized?"

"No. He wanted me and Alex to stay off-base until something happened. Then, we'd be moved in. What that would be and when, I can't tell you. When he has a working day, he comes home. However, that hasn't been for some time now."

"Suspicious."

"In our line of work, it always is. There's always someplace where we're in the line of fire. Whether it's today, tomorrow or a month from now, there's always a time and place we're going to be targeted. He's possibly trying to push it off for as long as he could."

"That's possible too."

I stared at Gibbs. "You know something I don't?"

"Me? No." Gibbs was acting too innocent. "Only thing I know is that we're having visitors soon."

"When?" I was elated on the inside to see Abby soon, although I was trying to warm up to the idea of Palmer. I was trying hard and I thought it counted for something.

"Tomorrow night," Gibbs promised. "The director is coming too."

My heart stopped. Director Vance coming means that this is something pretty big. He normally left Gibbs to his own devices and trusted him on all cases. However, Gibbs telling me meant something else too. The tone of his voice made this out to be that the trip wasn't just about the serial killer. He wouldn't be telling the rest of his team something like this if it didn't have to do with them. He would have surprised them.

"Why?" I asked, suppressing the fear that was bouncing in my stomach.

"You tell me," Gibbs replied cryptically. "When the director finds something missing in your file, I think it merits some attention."

"I have nothing to hide," I declared, feeling something more join the corner I was now stuck in. For what reason, I could not say. I knew it to be a bad thing though.

"No, you don't," Gibbs admitted, "but what our previous director did might have begun with you."

"What do you mean?"

"Jenny chose you personally."

"I knew this."

"And she decided not to add something Vance found."

"Which was what?"

Gibbs took something out of his jacket and handed it to me. It was a file of course, thin and threatening to me. I quickly took a peek and soon was sucked into the sad story. It was of a thirteen-year-old girl who was beaten almost to death and sent to the hospital at Henderson Hall in Arlington. There had been no one who had been said to have done the deed, although it was long suspected that the father was responsible. The mother and siblings said nothing and only stood watch for weeks until the girl regained consciousness and control of her emotions. Military police milled in and out of the room and still received nothing and closed the case. However, the medical files continued for some months because the girl was held back for evaluation, noting maybe depression and PTSD. From what it was, they could not say, but they concluded how the mother was protective of her daughter and the siblings didn't say a word. Everything was closed after a year, the doctors still convinced that something was wrong and never proving it.

I closed the file and handed it back to Gibbs. "So what?" I said.

"You never told me," Gibbs observed. He seemed a little hurt.

"What's there to add?" I was determined to not allow this incident to bother me and to leave it behind me. "It happened over fifteen years ago. My father is dead. You can't hold it against him anymore."

"It would have had a lasting effect on your NCIS record," Gibbs pointed out. "Vance could take that and destroy you."

"Where did you get this?"

"It doesn't matter now. What matters is what Jenny had put you through in order to get you to the agency."

"Are you doubting me?"

"Never. I am warning you."

"That what? I am just as crazy as the rest of you and have my own dark secrets?"

The stare Gibbs gave me almost made me shut my mouth completely, it was that intense and intimidating. Somehow, he figured out that I knew something and that tidbit of information may cost him, Tony, Ziva and McGee everything they had. I said nothing more. I waited for him to continue. It took some seconds for him to recover though, something I did not see in Gibbs. This too surprised me.

"What do you know?" he finally inquired.

"Just the same as you," I allowed, thinking back to the files I've seen and the stories I've heard. "Nothing."

Gibbs nodded. It was the right answer. The unspoken actions of the past were spread out between us though, almost like we acknowledged them and could not say them out loud. His family came to mind and so did mine. The ghosts of the past seemed to haunt us both, although I was always trying to push them away. They could not come back to bother me if I did nothing to see them.

"However, why would Vance want to use this against me?" I was curious, shoving aside the shocking image of my dead mother wrapped in a noose's embrace. "This is nothing."

"It's a road," Gibbs said. "He's been trying to get rid of anyone Jenny picked up. He has sacked quite a few agents that he found excuses for. Most of them transferred out. Some careers are ruined and all because of one person. Other reports don't see you in a flattering light though."

"Like what?"

"Your mother's death for instance."

" _And_?"

"Too personal in the first case."

"That wasn't of my doing."

"No, it wasn't. Pushing you to be an intern was something even I was questioning."

"It was unorthodox, I'd admit too. The director had her orders though, she said, and she showed them to me. There was no forgery. She answered to something higher up and that wasn't of her choosing."

"It's someone who Vance is still fighting."

"Regardless," I finished with a wave of my hand, "what do you want me to do?"

"Be on alert," Gibbs warned. "Prove your worth. I already see it."

Gibbs then hugged me from the side and kissed me on the forehead. I rested my head on his shoulder and returned the embrace, feeling comfort when I really shouldn't and trying to relax through the somewhat sobering haze. I mean, I was as close as I could get to Gibbs. Nobody could get next to his heart and know of it openly, although you could feel it on the inside. However, I was trying to distance myself, something I had to do as an agent afloat, and something I was struggling with too. I was also afraid that someone (like Tony) would also smell the booze and decide to crash in on the party and the façade Gibbs and I had created a long time ago.

"It's never easy," Gibbs then said, almost like he was reading my thoughts. What he was referring to, I could not tell, although it could have been a million things.

"Nothing is," I conceded, feeling released from Gibbs' grip. I then watched as he got up and went to the door, turning one last time to me.

"Do me a favor," Gibbs requested, something he hardly did.

"What?" Again, my curiosity was popping out. This made me wary, although I was expecting a demand from him.

Gibbs smiled, something I hardly see. "Next time you have alcohol, share it, will ya?"

I smiled too, something that I felt emotionally too. "I will," I promised, something I intended to keep. "I will."

* * *

 **Above lyrics are from the Shinedown song, "45".**


	9. Concessions and Confessions

The next morning brought a new round of assignments quickly. Tony and I were again put together and so were McGee and Ziva. This time, Tony and I were to pick up the listing from the cleaners for the Riverside Motel and Ziva and McGee were back onto the theory of the group the victims were a part of. McGee was also given the task of getting more information about the victims, since we seemed to have a lack of that too. Tony and I were also told by Gibbs to check into the Caribou PD and see if the evidence was left unmolested and to talk to a few people, the chief of police most of all. Gibbs mentioned he was picking up the director, Abby and Palmer from the Presque Isle airport tonight after we got back. The announcement of Vance coming unsettled a lot of people (Aunt Mary too) and that caused the only brave person in the dining room to ask why.

"Why is Vance coming?" Tony, the outspoken out of the three on the team, asked as breakfast was ending.

Gibbs silenced everyone who was almost to clamor the same question with a look, although my voice quivered with more probes. I just sat there with Alex, trying to feed him some plain scrambled eggs and prompting him to take the plastic fork from my hands. He mushed the food in his mostly gummy mouth, spitting out a yellow morsel here and there with a giggle. After half of the egg had been eaten, I gave up and released him to the living room. I ate what was left and gulped down some orange juice too, considering it my breakfast. I then glanced at Tony, putting my shoes on and throwing a farewell to everyone. Gibbs was staying with Alex, I was told by a disgruntled Aunt Mary. However, she was taking the opportunity to go to her friends without the baby, which relieved me in some way, to be honest. Either way, it was with this respite that I left with Tony.

Immediately, I drove to Presque Isle, hearing no complaints from Tony except about how my aunt could kill even Gibbs with her stares and that the two should have a contest. He even debated on who would win, thinking that Gibbs might take the cake and be the victor. I ignored all that, hoping that Lisa the Bimbo wouldn't be in when we arrived. It was a futile hope and one I had to hold onto, much as I was dreading Tony and his eccentric ways. She was too annoying, but not in the way that made me suspect her of any crime. Just another woman charmed by the likes of Tony DiNozzo.

When we reached Country Cleaners some twenty minutes later, Tony opted to go in alone and I stayed in the car. I was relieved, not being in the mood for the flirtations of Tony DiNozzo, and waited the few minutes it required for Tony to go in, get the invoices and return, maybe talking with the cleaning lady at the Riverside for a few minutes. However, after half an hour, I was getting worried. I turned the car off and cautiously went inside, seeing Tony still at the front counter talking with someone. I peered closer and saw it was Lisa the Bimbo, this time more serious than she was the day before. Her hand motions indicated that there seemed to be nothing to be done about the situation, which was infuriating Tony.

"I said I don't have them," Lisa insisted in what seemed to be the millionth time. "Agent DiNozzo, I promise you, they're not available for you to have copies of."

"You said yesterday that you have them ready for me." Tony seemed done with his game and his voice seemed pissier than it normally was. "You also stated that the cleaning lady would also be available to talk when she had lunch."

"She decided not to come in today," Lisa replied, the words sounding like she was hiding something, it was that obvious. "She won't be back for another two weeks. She had some family matters to take care of."

 _Family matters?_ It sounded suspicious to me.

"Is there any way we can get in contact with her?" I asked, having both Lisa and Tony turn to face me. Both of them were irritated to see me. "We can go directly to her."

"She's in Canada," Lisa offered.

I resisted a sarcastic remark, biting on my tongue. "I'm sure we can get there. Do you have an address?"

"You would have to go to the boss for the exact address," Lisa said, finalizing the conversation. "I'm sorry. I can give you his information and he'll tell you what you need to know."

Lisa then offered a business card from her desk, something Tony snatched quickly out of her hands. Without a goodbye, he stormed out, allowing me to follow behind him and glance back at Lisa with what I hoped was an aggressive one. We went back to the car, silently stewing in our failure (Tony most likely thinking about Gibbs), and allowing ourselves to think about what just happened. I was actually scared of starting the conversation this time. Seeing Tony so angry unnerved me. He almost appeared worse than Gibbs when he was mad and this said a lot.

"That maintenance guy at the other place did not have his boss call us either," Tony observed a few minutes later, breaking the silence and giving me a chance to talk. I was treading carefully though.

"We can drop in again," I said, something I was sure would get Tony to think about the case and not how many head slaps he was going to get.

"We can later on," Tony agreed. "However, this else is bothering me, more than Lisa not giving me what she promised and this guy always being two steps ahead of us."

"What?"

"Vance coming. I mean, why does the director want to be up here in the boonies? There's nothing for him to do here except be in the way."

"Don't ask me."

"Oh, I've heard rumors."

"Of what?"

"House cleaning. Vance has been trying to sweep Jenny's things under the rug since he took her seat while her body was still warm. Nobody has said much, since it was a little cleaning here and there, but recently, it's been bad. And being up here during a high profile case must mean that he's aiming to bust one of us."

Tony then looked at me. His eyes seemed gentle this time, the irate gone. He took my hands gently and moved them to face upward, arms also exposed. He traced some lines from my hands down, old scars from a horrible childhood, stopping near my elbow. What he was trying to convey to me, I did not know, but the feeling made me wary of him, like he had an idea of what my secrets were because of the permanent marks there. His fingers still lingered at my elbow though, which made me wince and pull away. Tony was very quiet, letting his hands stay where they were before he awkwardly put them back at his side.

"What happened?" he asked me. "What did you do to yourself?"

"What are you talking about?" My heart was in my throat. "What do you mean?"

"Once upon a time, there was a girl who was never really loved," Tony began. "There was a girl who was sheltered and had a mother who loved her so much that she poisoned her with her demons from the dreaded college days."

"So?" I tried relaxing and wished I was succeeding. "Where are you going with this?"

"I think you know where I am," Tony continued. "Because I read your files, Lydia, and did a little digging. Gibbs isn't the only one who knows of your past and how Vance is trying his hardest to take you down. You aren't exactly the most stable of the bunch, maybe a little more so than our very own Captain One-Shot Gibbs, and being hired on a whim to NCIS because of Jenny was very disbelieving to most. Hardly out of the school, no experience in law enforcement and suddenly a probationary agent in a federal agency? Something was wrong with Jenny. She took a chance on something and planned a shot in hell."

"I honestly don't know what it is." I was being trustful. "Honestly, Tony, I don't know why Jenny decided on me. She offered, I took the bait and here I am. What do you want out of that?"

"She sent you to Germany when you husband went to Ramstein-Miesenbach Air Force Base," Tony went on, ignoring me. "I wonder why? Oh, yes, it was to bust out a nasty drug ring. Went well, didn't it? Shot your knee out and came out a hero when you escaped? It proved something. You were better than what you claimed to be. Jenny was trying her hardest to prove that people like you, like me and maybe like Gibbs, could be on the field and still make good choices and make an impact on the world. You don't waste good, Lydia, and that was what Jenny saw in you. Because the good in you came out even when there was still bad…when there was despair and depression, drug usage and even death."

I kept my mouth shut. I never told anyone of my past and was surprised that Tony knew so much and was willing to share that wild card. He was right though. My mother raped my father and I was the result of it. I was receiving the brunt of my father's rage and my mother did her best to protect me, smothering me in what love she was denied to give Jay and Mara. She used me for her own purposes, her twin in every way except age, and fed me drugs, fear and loneliness as she ignored my older siblings more and more, something that Jay and Mara never resented once. She taught me to turn only to myself and to trust a few, something I had to battle with myself for years, even now. In-between out of that, somehow, there was a disease that I was never diagnosed with when I was younger, something I know will destroy me in every way.

"And?" I finally had enough. "Tony, what does this have to do with the case?"

"Just looking out for you. Gibbs isn't the only one who cares. Just remember that I have your back too, no matter what." Tony buckled his seat belt, turning hard again, something I had been waiting for. "Now, hit the other cleaning place. I want to see if the boss is in there."

I conceded, inwardly thankful that Tony did not bring up any specifics. Grinning, I started up the car again and pulled out, heading to Country Cleaners where we mostly likely met Mr. Special Delivery. There weren't too many people there, since lunchtime seemed a faraway thing on a weekday like this, and it was good to see business booming and our presence unremarkable. Tony and I exited the car when parked and headed inside, avoiding employees whispering about how the place was trashed the day before and there were no security tapes. I took this as a sign of things to come, sighing as we showed our badges to the nearest person, the one who seemed to be in charge. The name tag said Jerry Pelkey. I just hoped that he could help us, my thoughts racing back to the day before.

"NCIS," I announced as Tony and I put our badges away. "We're here to see the manager of this company."

"Speaking," Jerry replied, shuffling some papers in his hands. "How can I help you?"

"We need to speak to you privately concerning a matter," Tony clarified, pointing to an office we busted into when we were last there. "Maybe you can enlighten us about certain things."

"Anything I can do for the law enforcement of this country." Jerry wrinkled his eyebrows, ushering us into his office and shutting the door behind us, although he had a hard time doing so. Tony and I exchanged looks, hoping that he would not ask us anything about it. "Now, my upkeep guy said you came in yesterday and gave me a card. I did not get a chance to call and I apologize for that. This place has been a disaster since my last girl left a few months ago and it's been difficult to find good people to work here."

"I understand." I found a seat and sat, Tony copying me on the right. "Now, we were here yesterday, inquiring about the Riverside Motel."

"What about it?" Jerry sat down behind his desk, groaning. "We haven't been there in almost a year now. Old Anna Pelletier fired us."

"Why? You seem like a good bunch of people." Tony seemed inquisitive, a change from some minutes ago.

"Well, our employees starting seeing things in there and the police did nothing about it," Jerry continued. "One of them saw animals in the rooms eating flesh. What it was, they could not tell. Another smelled something worse than rotten eggs. That was dismissed too. The last one saw the most, claiming that a shadowy man kept stalking her, throwing things at her and threatening to kill her if she revealed anything to the police. Again, nobody took us seriously. The police laughed it off, saying that there were too many crazies in the trailer park next door and too many animals that brought in dead prey, not checking on anything. They then told Anna to patch the holes in the walls and doors and walked away. The last time one of my people reported her and the insane things in there, she told us not to come again and that she would not pay the remaining difference owed to us. Then, another cleaning place took our job, someplace that her husband bought and started over. I think it was Four-Ever Cleaners."

The name rung a bell with us. "They've been cleaning it ever since?" Tony seemed fidgety.

"Yeah," Jerry confirmed. "Anna's daughter, Lisa, runs the front desk. She's a mouse of a child, but she's not a bad girl. I think she's a little misguided too, having the mother she has."

Everything made my mind turn its gears and go into overdrive. My stomach was telling me there was a link somewhere and that it all revolved around Mr. Special Delivery somehow. We just had to find it somehow, if we had the evidence to. I was sure to get more information from the one person I did not want to see either, at a place I dreaded going to since I was a kid. It was on our list of places to go anyway and might save us a trip too, the way things were going.

"Do you have the invoices of when you were there?" Tony asked, hoping to get there faster than we had with Greg Cyr, our block in the road.

"I could copy them," Jerry said with some unease. "For official reasons, hand me the warrant and I'll give you anything on it. Deal?"

Tony and I looked to each other one more time quickly, both of us nodding. Sure, this was going the hard way and we had to make some concessions somewhere. I just could understand why Jerry Pelkey wanted it this way, although I was still cautious. Did he have something to hide too? Was there something he found in the Riverside Motel that merited some checking on our part? Was there going to always be someone hiding behind closed doors, always helping one on the run and keeping away from us? I could not tell yet. It was getting too much for me. It also made me glad that I never lived here on a permanent basis and Silver Spring, Maryland was a place to stay permanently.

"Deal," Tony approved loudly, sealing the agreement. "Now, about the times you've been at the Riverside…"


End file.
